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Just Deserts

By: db_01



 (continuing from Life Gets Better, they had just finished a torrid session)

"Yummy," he heard her say as she lay there.

"I think we'll stay in tonight and I'll cook something," he said. 

He smiled at her and added, "I hope I can still walk to the market."

Somehow red meat sounded like a perfect meal tonight. 

***************************

It had been good for both of them and neither felt any urgency to move from the bed or each other as the buzz from their climaxes was still strongly felt. She had closed her eyes and was breathing softly when he finally moved from underneath her head and he watched her curl up, almost hugging her knees as he moved off the bed. He lifted her head, placed a pillow under it, and then covered her with part of the blanket before walking over to the bathroom. 

"Thanks babe," she whispered.

The hours from this week and the intensity of the sex combined to sap any energy she might have had left and she fell asleep quickly.

In the shower, he had some time to reflect on her and thought back to how they had met. He was still on the road and bored with eating alone, having virtually no night life and spent most of his waking hours working so that by the time he got back to his hotel at night he would fall asleep quickly.

She had answered a personals ad he had placed online and from the first time they sat across from each other at dinner he had known she was special. It wasn't just the way she looked, it was the way she carried herself, the way she spoke so forcefully about things she felt passionate about. 

Her schedule was as busy as his but she hadn't backed away from the challenge of having some kind of a relationship with him knowing that when the project was done he would likely be gone to yet another city. The sex had been too good, to all consuming for both of them to pass up the opportunity to satisfy their respective hunger for the sensual and sexual for however long it would last.

When he stepped out of the shower he did his normal check of his reflection in the mirror and decided that he really should start spending a few more minutes a day on his basic workout. He hadn't worried much when his hair started to thin but his own personal vanity refused to let his body go to hell and at 45 it was getting harder to keep up with the demands of staying fit. Besides, if he had any hope of keeping up with her sexual appetite he had better stay in shape.

As he dressed, she never moved on the bed, still wrapped in the cover and sleeping peacefully. Out of habit he dressed and moved around the room quietly, not wanting to wake her. When he finished, he made his way to the kitchen, got a large glass of ice water and brought it back to the nightstand by the bed so it would be there when she finally woke and then headed out to the market to do some quick shopping.

After their first meeting, he had promised to cook for her on a future date and had taken her shopping prior to creating the meal. Time in the kitchen was one of his ways of getting away from work and she had discovered that shopping was pretty serious business for him as well. She learned about telling the difference between almost and ripe produce, quality of meats and had told him at one point that she had never really enjoyed shopping for food until she had done it with him, that at times it was a kind of sensual experience watching him as he gently handled what he bought and was so intense in his concentration.

Today was no different and as he made the short walk to the market his thoughts were on the menu for tonight. He loved the fact that he was so close to a really high quality store that took a lot of pride in their meats and produce. He had made it a point to become friendly with the staff so that we he wanted something special or specific they always managed to get it for him. He knew the manager of the meat counter by name, asked him to cut fresh two filets and since it was Saturday, the seafood had come in that morning so a small lobster tail as well. The rest of the menu would be a quick mango salsa on fresh spinach, grilled asparagus, and broiled new potatoes to go with the steak and tail. A small baguette, Brie and some fruit filled out his purchases and he was back at the apartment a half hour after he had left.

He heard her stirring in the bedroom as he put the groceries away and when she came out she had put on one of his dress shirts. 

"You look good enough to eat," he told her. "Are you sure I have to make dinner?"

"Make it for me at least," she said. " I didn't take time to eat anything this morning and if we keep going like we did earlier I'm going to need something for refueling or I promise I'll just lay there and you'll have to do all the work."

"Wore you out did I?"

"Yeah, I think you actually did this time but remember, my batteries recharge pretty quickly and all you did was give me an appetite that I promise will bring you to your knees later tonight."

"Can I get that in writing," he asked?

"Damn straight mister," she said with a wicked grin. 

"What did you bring me back to nibble on while you create your masterpiece for this evening?"

By now she was sitting at the island work area and he brought over the baguette, Brie and raspberries and let her dig in while he started the prep work for their meal. A glass of wine completed her impromptu mid-day snack and by the time she had eaten a pretty good-sized piece of the baguette and half the Brie he was ready to bake, broil, and grill what would be their dinner tonight. 

As she walked away saying she was going to take a shower he noticed two things. The first was that she looked damn sexy in that shirt and the second was that as usual she had left the cleanup after her snack for him to take care of. He didn't mind.

While waiting for the water in the shower to warm she studied her reflection in the mirror from a couple of different angles. She was pleased for the most part with the way she looked. She had always been short waisted but it served to accent her long, sleek legs and her buns still had a toned curve to them that she knew looked good in the tight skirts she preferred to wear for work. Her breasts didn't sag much at all but in the back of her mind she was also counting the years before she would finally do something to lift them. The D cup size had served her well when she had been more actively seeking partners but now she was starting to think that maybe one cup size less would be easier for her.

She knew that he appreciated them and it was all that really mattered for the moment. A shiver passed through her as she thought about how good it felt when he touched them with his hands or his mouth and at that remembrance her nipples started to harden. 

"The man does know how to push all of my buttons," she thought, and as she opened the door and walked into the warm spray she decided to give him a taste of his own medicine later tonight. 

"Let him be the one squirming on the bed because he can't stand the teasing any longer."

When she eventually reached for the shampoo to wash her hair she had to smile again at the fact that since the last time she had been there he had picked up both the conditioner and shampoo that he must have seen at her apartment. Attention to detail was important to both of them at work but the idea that it carried over to his personal life, that he thought that much of her was pretty astonishing. Maybe he was right when he told her that by the time he and his ex split he was about as trained as any man would ever be when it came to being around women. 

"I could live with 95%," she thought.

By the time she got out of the shower she could smell that he had made progress toward having dinner ready and though she had eaten quite a bit before the shower the aromas were making her hungry again. She left her hair up in a towel, dabbed perfume where she was sure he would find it later, put his shirt back on and walked back to the kitchen feeling like she really was ready to start the day again.

He was glad she had stayed in the shirt and if he wasn't mistaken there were less buttons buttoned than when she had been in it before. 

"Ready for a cocktail," he asked?

"Is that steaks I smell?"

He nodded and said "and tail, potatoes and asparagus."

"Vodka's good then," she said.

She lit cigarettes for both of them and took a healthy sip from the glass when he handed her the cocktail. He drank deeply from his own and told her that they could eat in about 15 minutes. 

"Why don't you pick something to listen to and I'll have the salads ready when you get back."

She hopped off the stool and once again he got to see her walk away in that shirt as she moved to the living room, removed the towel from her head and shook out her hair before kneeling down by the CD rack. He reminded himself that he had a very sharp knife in his hands as he continued to chop the makings of the salsa and he better pay attention to the task at hand, not the cute butt under the shirt.

They talked about their work, planned for a trip downtown tomorrow and what silence there was while they ate dinner was comfortable between them. She helped clear the table and left him to do the rest of the cleanup when she walked outside to the patio to watch the sunset. He walked out perhaps ten minutes later, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her close to him as the darkness replaced the end of the daylight.

"Dinner was nice," she told him. "Did you pick up anything for desert later?"

"Nothing specific, just some strawberries because they looked good and we still have a little sorbet left in the freezer." "If you're craving some chocolate later I have a stash you haven't managed to find yet that I can probably be coaxed into letting you at it," he said.

She turned in his arms making sure to rub slowly against him and said, "Coaxed?" 

"And just how might I coax you into revealing your stash?" and reached down to cup him in her hand.

He brought his lips to her ear and whispered, "Maybe persuaded is a better word."

She felt him starting to swell in her hand and continued to caress him with it, then moved her lips to his mouth to tease around his lips with the tip of her tongue. She pushed against his hip with her other hand and following her lead, he turned with her so that his back was now against the railing. Her hands moved to his belt buckle, then the button at the top of his pants and soon they were at his ankles where he stepped out of them with a little bit of effort.

He was half erect now and as she continued to caress his sack and shaft with her nails, her fingertips, her hand stroking up and down his length at times, he was soon completely stiff and anxious to see what would follow. 

"How's that for persuasion?" she whispered in his ear.

"It's a start, but I think I need some more convincing," he replied and when he moved her hair back from her face with his hands it was clear what he thought would persuade him.

She kissed his mouth hard for a moment and then started trailing kisses and nibbles with her teeth down his chest so that by the time she was finished she was on her knees in front of him holding his cock up against his stomach as she kissed down it's length, finally stopping when her mouth reached the underside of his balls. Gently she sucked one then the other into her mouth, teasing them with her tongue as she did so and was rewarded with the feeling that he had gotten harder still.

He watched as she licked the palm of her hand and when it was slick, she wrapped her fingers around his cock and began slowly stroking from tip to base, twisting her hand around the sensitive head each time her hand moved back up. It was torture to watch the slow stroking motion of her hand and even more so to feel what she was doing to him. She knew just how much pressure to use to give him exquisite pleasure yet not enough so that he would cum any time soon. It was all he could do to hold himself still and his forearms were taught as he gripped the rail behind him for support.

She moved her head forward to take the head of his cock in her mouth and in concert with her continued stroking began following her hand down and then back up the shaft. Her tongue swirled around the head and her teeth gently scraped as she bobbed her head up and down, varying how hard and soft her mouth sucked on him. She was alternating at times with her other hand, playing with her already wet pussy and continuing to caress and fondle his balls. The cold air shocked him when she removed her mouth for a moment and he watched her bring her hand that had been teasing her pussy to her mouth to taste and lick her fingers clean. It was another shock when she once again dropped her warm mouth over his cock and she resumed sucking him. 

Had they not had sex hours earlier he would have cum already from what she was doing to him and though frustrating to be that close it allowed him to savor how good she was at this. Every time she swirled her tongue over the head it was like silk being drawn over it. What she was doing with her hands as she stroked him was like he was buried inside of her and he wanted to enjoy it as long as possible.

She also knew that he had reached a plateau and as much as she loved the feel of him in her mouth her pussy had other ideas. She removed her mouth again and looked up at his face as she continued to stroke him, telling him "I need a cock in me."

He had no chance to ask how because she stood up and stepped to his side, put both hands on the rail and bent over at the waist. He was behind her immediately and holding her hips with one hand, used the other to guide the tip of his cock in between her swollen lips, sliding it end to end a few times before rubbing it across her clit.

"Don't tease me, not now," she groaned and shifted just enough to capture the head at her opening and moved back towards him. 

He matched her movement, shifting his hips forward and was buried inside of her an instant later. There was no need to find a rhythm as they began thrusting against each other. They fucked hard like this for a couple of minutes and though the orgasms were small she had a couple of them during the most intense period of their frantic activity. It wasn't enough, not for either one of them and when he slowed his movements and took a couple of deep breaths he said, "let's take this inside."

They stumbled to the couch and he sat down on the edge of it waiting for her to straddle him and continue their ride. She was quickly on top of him, knees on either side of his thighs, and wasted no time guiding his cock back inside of her. 

She was hungry now and began grinding her hips forward and back rapidly, stimulating her clit as much as possible trying to trigger the climax that she so desperately wanted. His hands were free to play with her breasts and knowing how she would react, started teasing and pulling at her nipples. He knew they were hot wired to her pussy and it was a matter of seconds before he felt her pussy clasp, release and then clamp hard around his cock as she started the climb that would end in a shattering orgasm.

"How bad do you want this?" he hissed at her as he tried to maximize the contact between their hips.

"FFUUUUCCKKKKkkkkkkk......" was all she could utter as she exploded in climax, her hips continuing to move frantically against him as it finally overtook her. 

Her arms wrapped around his head as she collapsed against his chest, barely able to catch her breath, her body still trembling, hips still rocking on their own and he marveled at how even lost in sensation as she was, her pussy still clasped at him, still felt like if was hungry for more.

When she had caught her breath and lifted her head a minute or so later, she held his face in her hands and said, "ready to finish this?"

"You promise to leave me in one piece?"

"If I don't the rest of the weekend's going to suck... so yeah, I do." 

She climbed off of his lap and as he made a movement to get up she told him not to move, so once more he leaned back on the couch wondering what she had in mind. When she came back from the bathroom he had a pretty good idea. She placed the bottle of oil she had brought back on the floor next to the couch and used the warm washcloth in her other hand to clean him. When she finished she kneeled in between his legs, dripped the massage oil on his cock and then more into her hands.

It was a huge turn on for her to watch him stroke his cock and she would have asked him to do so tonight but right now what she really wanted was for him to experience some of what he had just given her. Besides, her pussy was still too sensitive right now for her to play with while she watched him. This would do for now. 

"You were having such a good time out there before that I thought maybe you'd like me to finish what I started," she said.

His reply was to move his hands behind his head, spread his legs wider and say "go for it babe."

At first, all she did was slide her hands slowly up and down the shaft, making sure that is was completely coated and every third stroke or so would reach under and tease his balls with her nails. Soon it was torture once again, as it had been out on the deck, and she intended to keep him near the edge until he begged her to stop. His balls had pulled up tight to his body and at that point she began using the tip of her tongue and her lips to tease and tickle just under the head of his cock. Each time she did he would gasp or quickly draw in a breath as he fought to prolong the pleasure.

He reached one of his hands towards her and she cautioned him, "Stay still, it will all be worth it in the end, I promise."

Her hands began to speed up again, this time concentrating almost entirely on the head. He was so sensitive now that it was almost more than he could bear and he began to groan, leaning further back into the couch so that he could move his hips and thrust into her stroking hands.

Without warning she stopped stroking, rose up on her knees and wrapped her breasts around the hard cock in front of her. He didn't need an invitation or coaxing to start thrusting his hips, driving his cock in and out of her gorgeous breasts, hell bent on getting his release and when she reached down once more to tease his balls he lost it entirely.

The first burst of cum hit in between her breasts and she quickly lowered her head to take him in her mouth, to capture the rest of it, while she continued to stroke the shaft with her hand. He lost track of time as it seemed he was cumming forever, her mouth making sure that not a drop was wasted, milking him dry in the end.

"Damn babe, I've never cum that hard before," he said when he finally recovered enough to speak.

"You know I keep my promises," she said as she picked up the washcloth from earlier and gently wiped his cock, then cleaned the cum from between her breasts.

"This means you let me into the chocolate, right?"

DB 1/05

Just Deserts



(Yes I know the difference between desert and dessert)

*In life we build and we destroy; know the difference*



(Memories)

It was the worst night of her life. She was sandwich between two men she didn't know, taking it up her pussy and her ass as they grunted and heaved her upright on her knees. She had one man's penis rammed down her throat while she furiously, desperately gave another one a hand job. The thing was she knew four more were circling out there, waiting their turn, or turn again, at her body.

She was well pasted begging them to stop, or even give her time to recover. All her cries did was egg them on. They already had covered her face, breasts and hair with their cum. This had been going on for hours and they promised they were only half way there. Her face was marked with tears though her body was in so much agony they had dried up yet still they kept coming for her. 

When they finally stopped there was something broken in her, a damage to her psyche that might have healed except for one thing. It might have healed except the man she had gone through that all for; her boyfriend, Rodney, who had used her to cover his gambling debts, had left her the next day. No words; he was gone and she didn't even know why. Had she not done enough?

(Chelsea and Rose)

"Come on Baby," Rose called out softly to Chelsea, staring down on her sweat drenched form. "Same bad dream?" Chelsea nodded. Ten years down the road and it still haunted her.

"Let me make you feel better," Rose purred.

"Rose I ..." Chelsea started to resist.

"You always say 'no', but you end up saying 'yes'," Rose murmured as she put a mouth to Chelsea's closest nipple. Rose was right, her love was always enough to bandage the hurt and make it go away for a time. It was a patch that helped her get through the day with a promise that Rose would be there when the night terrors would come for her again.

Rose's hands worked their way across to the other breast, massaging it, top to midpoint, playing with the nipple but never for too long. She saved the pleasure for the closest nipple where she suckled like a child with small gentle pulls that drove Chelsea crazy. Only when her whole body writhed in joyous release did Rose allow her hand to slide down and move between her thighs.

"Someone is very wet tonight," Rose observed. Chelsea nodded hungrily and couldn't stop herself from moaning.  Rose slipped to fingers gently in, snug and tight into Chelsea's snatch. Contrary to her profession, Chelsea didn't have sex too often on or off the job. Her body and technique were hot enough that as an exotic dancer she didn't need those little extras to get by.

Rose brought the fingers up to her favorite nipple and coated it in Chelsea's juices. She murmured when she combined the three flavors, Chelsea's juices, sweat, and flesh into one orgasmic delight. It only made her tongue twirl harder to take more of her lover in. It was almost with reluctance that she dipped down to Chelsea's cunt for a second dose, but this one for Chelsea's lips.

Chelsea loved her own taste and loved it even more when she could suck it off of Rose's fingers which would move and wiggle inside her mouth, tantalizing and teasing as Chelsea's tongue sought out every taste. By the time Rose returned for the third time, Chelsea was closing on the verge. Now Rose plunged in with those two fingers while rubbing Chelsea's clit with her thumb.

"Aaahhh!" Chelsea screamed out soon enough. Getting Chelsea to orgasm the first time was always easy. She was such a willing receptacle of pleasure, her body so eager to please that it fueled a deep down sense of anger from Rose for whoever had hurt her so badly. For Chelsea it even lessened her anger about those nearly faceless men so long ago.

Chelsea lay panting beside Rose who drank the juices from one hand while making soft and gentle lines along Chelsea's profile.

"Good enough?" Rose teased.

"It is not the same thing," Chelsea answered after a moment's sad introspection.

(Kyle)

He had come into the bar as part of a friend's bachelor party. He had immediately seemed out of place, so honest and open; neither wide-eyed nor arrogant. She noticed him staring at her from the moment she came on stage. That wasn't unusual; she was used to the attention. It was how she made money after all.

What had struck her was when he smiled up at her. She wasn't doing anything in particular that would have elicited that response. He smiled at her without leering or being embarrassed. He got up and gave her money, but he didn't try to do anything dangerous. After her performance she came down and did some lap-dances which were the norm.

Chelsea worked over his crowd of friends well. Bachelor parties were good for that, along with all kinds of efforts to get the girls to come up the hotel rooms afterwards. Chelsea avoided those. When she got to her boy, he'd asked her if he could touch her. Something made her say yes, so she got the bouncer's attention to give the man a warning and told the client to grab away.

He put his hands on her waist. He never went for the ass or the breasts. Something about dancing for him felt nice. It was the way he looked at her and the way she made him smiled.

"Is there any chance I can talk to you outside of this place? I know it may not be allowed and I'll understand if this is out of bounds, but I'd like to see you sometime."

Chelsea had never done it before. Contacts outside of the club never went over well. Guys wanted a cheap whore or a trophy to brag to their friends about. She gave the guy, Kyle, her number and he had given his in exchange. Chelsea had smirked; if she ever needed to find a real estate developer she knew who to call.

He had called the next afternoon to set up a date for the following evening. Rose had laughed at her. The running bet was between Denny's for a quick bang in the back of his car and Caesar's for an all-nighter with room service. Instead he took her to a place called Charlie's. It wasn't a restaurant she'd even heard before.

"What's up with this place?" Chelsea asked over her lobster. Kyle looked up shyly.

"This was my favorite spot in high school. I was so nervous asking you out that I opted for a place I would feel comfortable," he admitted. Chelsea looked him over. Guys were normally sleazy assholes who rarely looked passed her tits and ass. Somehow ...

"What color are my eyes?" she asked him.

"Hazel with gold flecks," Kyle answered without hesitation. "They are really intense," he added.

"What do you like best about me?" Chelsea persisted.

"Your smile," he grinned. "It is what drew me to you."

"I don't smile on stage," Chelsea caught him in the lie.

"You did right before you came on. The girl who danced before you, Opal, said something and you smiled," he explained. Chelsea thought about that for a second.

"And because of that you decided to ask me out?" she tried to mock him.

"Pretty much, yes; you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen and I decided I'd at least try and see if you would go out with me," Kyle explained. Chelsea sulked for a while. 

"Why do you find it hard to believe I would want to go out with you because I like spending time with you?" he asked

Chelsea looked at him with no good answer.

"Listen, I like you so why don't we go back to your place and ...you know ..." Chelsea smiled.

"I ... wow, I was hoping to take you out to a nightclub after dinner," Kyle informed her. "I figured that since you had to wait on tables so much you would like to be waited on for a change."

"Kyle, I just offered to sleep with you. We don't have to play around if you don't want to," Chelsea tested him.

"Chelsea, I don't want to be 'some guy' and I'm not playing around with you. I really want to take you out for a night on the town," Kyle countered. Chelsea studied him. He seemed legit which she found incredible. She had no intention of sleeping with him but he had no way of knowing that.

"Let's go out then," Chelsea allowed him. The clubs he took her weren't the ones she was used to hitting. The clientele was made up of all kind of people, high-rollers, show performers, and in-touch tourists. Chelsea had the time of her life, or something close to it. It was the side of the city's life she'd known about but never had the reason to enter. With Kyle it seemed to be totally normal.

Around one o'clock they made their way back to his car, laughing and talking about the night they'd had. He got her car door and slipped over to his side without as much as a leer. On the way back, Chelsea told him what a good time she'd had. It had been different, she admitted and somewhat of a new experience. He was abnormally quiet.

When they got to her place, Chelsea waited for the move. Instead Kyle took her to the door and kissed her on the cheek.

"Do you think we can go out again?" he asked as the stood together. Chelsea studied Kyle; the man's hands were nervously at his sides. The man was actually afraid of her.

"Sure. I have off in three days. Give me a call," she returned his smiled with one of her own. Kyle nodded and headed off down the walkway. He gave her a look before driving away which was almost as surprising to Chelsea as the fact that she found herself waiting for him to do just that.

(Rose and Chelsea)

"How did it go?" Rose asked when she came in from the club. She noted that Chelsea was sitting up with her feet pulled up beneath her reading one of her trashy novels. When Rose asked Chelsea gave a slight smile.

"It was great," she broke out into a full grin. "He took me out to a nice restaurant, and then we went to the Embers night clubs – that place right off the strip."

"And?" Rose asked waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"And he was really nice. He kept his hands were I could see them the entire time. I even did the false lure of free sex, but he didn't bite. I'm not sure what to make of it," she sighed.

"I think he's sexual confused and gay," Rose chuckled.

"Oh, his eyes were saying yes," Chelsea sighed, "and he kept hiding his bulge. He wanted something alright,"

"So he was a pig then," Rose teased.

"Rose, if I can't make a man hard, I'm wearing a nun's habit," Chelsea counted.

"I'd like to see you in a nun's habit," Rose leered. Chelsea gave her a seductive grin.

"Well, I'm horny," Chelsea suggested. Chelsea swung her legs out from under her and Rose sat in her lap. After a deep wet kiss, Rose looked into Chelsea's eyes.

"So this guy gets you wet?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "but I'm not going to let him know it." Rose kissed her again.

"I can live with that arrangement," the taller woman sighed back at her lover. In a way she was jealous about this guy, but in a way she was happy for Chelsea's sake to see her really happy with another person. If he hurt her she'd gut him and leave him to die in the desert.



(Three Days Later)

"So you are Kyle," Rose said when she answered the door for the man. She allowed that he was handsome enough and well-dressed, but the real test was how the reacted to her tank top and short shorts. He gaped.

"Wow you must be Rose, you look hot," he managed to say. Rose struck a pose and grinned at him.

"Better looking than Chelsea," she teased quietly. This guy had been too easy.

"You are beautiful," he answered in the same tone, "but I've fallen for Chelsea." That wasn't what Rose expected to hear. Chelsea had it right; this guy had a way of sounding sincere. "Can I come in?"

Rose stepped aside and let Chelsea's date inside. He even smelled good; Rose knew some of the more expensive patrons wore it.

"So, you come from money?" Rose asked.

"Yes, I guess you could say that," he admitted. "They are allowing me to make something on my own though and things are working out well for me. How are things working out for you?"

"The economy has been tough but things are picking up. Think about sending more business our way? Maybe having more people spend time with Chelsea?" Rose asked pleasantly.

"Hey, that would be a good idea," Kyle responded. "Thanks."

"So, do you like having an exotic dancer as a girlfriend?" Rose continued.

"I guess so. It really hasn't come up. I've told a few friends I'm seeing someone. Why? Has she been talking about me?" he replied. That brought Rose up short. Chelsea hadn't been bragging about him. It wasn't her style and in a way she was embarrassed by seeing someone she was sure was taking her for a ride.

"It's never come up," Rose allowed.

"Kyle," Chelsea announced herself.

"Wow, and I didn't think I'd see anyone more attractive than Rose tonight," Kyle gawked. Chelsea gave Rose a knowing look. She knew Rose was wearing a killer look meant to distract her date.

"What are you two doing tonight?" Rose inquired.

"Well, I think Chelsea gets to choose the next date, but I was thinking Fritz's for an early dinner then a movie then a show at the Dollar's; home by two?"

Rose was brought up short by a lack of criticism. Chelsea's smile broadened.

"Are you going to join some friends?" Rose finally managed.

"Chelsea hasn't shown any interest in my friends, but we could manage something," Kyle turned the tables. "Of course if she wants to meet some of her friends that is kind of up to her too."

"Maybe on date four," Chelsea nodded. That made Kyle very happy, imagining going as far as date four.

"Well, we are heading out," Chelsea said putting an arm around Kyle's and heading him out the door. Before they exited Kyle turned over his shoulder and suggested.

"Rose, maybe we can double date on our next time out?" She wanted to think of it as a barb, but something told her that, damn him, he was sincere. How did she tell him he was the one who deserved another date?

For Chelsea it was a taste of normalcy; even upscale normalcy. Something she was becoming to like about Kyle was that he didn't bury her in too upscale eateries and nightclubs. She was used to flashy players who went all out to stun their dates for an easy kill. Instead they got a normal bite to eat, a normal movie (if a bit too much action/adventure) and then a nightclub that she liked to come back to. 

They stayed out later than planned sitting back and going to a twenty-four hour dinner some of the girl's frequented. A few stopped by their table and talked about the business and scoped out Kyle. She got a few secret thumbs up on her choice in companionship. In another change of expectations, Kyle eventually claimed fatigue and took her home. They kissed on the lips and Chelsea found herself pressing up against him, wanting to promise him more.

"How was it?" yawned Rose, waking up with Chelsea's entrance. Chelsea leaned up against the door.

"Normal," she sighed. "Perfectly normal; he behaved himself, kept eye-contact, and laughed at my jokes."

Rose had to think that over. In a short time she'd made more advances with this man than she had with any other man in the three years she'd known Chelsea. It was something that she found personally painful.

"You seem to be moving awful fast with this one," Rose suggested.

"Yeah, I know, but what if he's just into me? What if I found some guy who wants to be me, not some lay, or a bragging right. I've waited for him to do something, but has been ... a gentleman," Chelsea beamed.

"He must be a psycho-killer," Rose joked.

"Rose, why don't you like him?" Chelsea asked.

"I worry about you Chelsea," Rose admitted.

"I think he is different Rose, I really do," Chelsea hoped.

"Let's go to bed," Rose suggested. The last thing Rose expected happened. Chelsea came up and kissed her deeply.

"You've always been there for me Rose. Thank you," she purred down to her friend.

"Oh, he's got you all riled up?" Rose responded.

"No, you being worried about me remind me how much you mean to me," Chelsea answered. That was all the response that Rose needed. She'd have settled for being a surrogate for tonight, but was a ton happier being loved for who she was.

Rose stood up and kissed her full on the lips. Chelsea tasted like caramel and sugar. Her hands roamed over Chelsea's sides and ass in the way Kyle's hadn't. Part of her thought he didn't know what he as missing and the other part was glad he was missing it.

"Mmmm," Chelsea said as Rose groped a breast. Chelsea immediate returned the favor while keeping her kiss going.

"Bedroom," Rose whispered then began maneuvering Chelsea toward the door. Chelsea pulled her tight and kissed Rose's neck right where she liked it. Rose moans became louder as Chelsea began sucking and licking on that spot. 

What followed was a whirlwind as they shed each other's clothes, nibble and teased their sensitive spots that only lovers experienced in the way their lover's bodies could do. Chelsea tricked Rose into getting between Rose's legs. Rose was gasping and crying out as she reached for the spots below that drove Rose toward orgasm.

"God Chelsea! You are on fire tonight," Rose groaned. Chelsea responded with a gentle easing of attention that drove Rose into a longer lead up to her climax instead of the instant intense movements that got her there immediately. A minute later Rose lost it anyway and Chelsea licked and lapped Rose to one extended period of joy.

Chelsea crawled up beside Rose who was still panting and curled up with her.

"Was this make-up sex?" Rose gave a weak grin.

"No, this is you are my best friend sex," Chelsea smiled back with real affection. "I didn't want you to feel that we were growing apart. You'll see."

Chelsea nestled into Rose and quickly fell asleep. Rose stayed up a bit longer, running her hands gently through Chelsea's hair. She knew that Chelsea meant what she said. What she was less certain of what Kyle would think of the whole arrangement. Men tended to be possessive. That Rose herself was being possessive was lost on her.

(Chelsea)

Chelsea was dancing her number provocatively as ever though the announcer commented privately that she was putting a little something extra into her performance recently. She felt herself smiling more often and Rose let slip she was seeing someone. The other dancers teased her for not bringing that guy from the diner around.

She and Rose were out on the floor doing lap dances when someone called out to her – actually, her old pre-performance name.

"Tamara, Baby," he said. He was short and slight, maybe five four and one hundred fifty pounds. For a second Chelsea couldn't place him but when she did she froze up. 

She couldn't do anything. Rose saw distress and pulled her aside.

"She's one hot piece of ass," the guy told one of his companions. Rose nodded to one of the curious bouncers warding him off. The client hadn't done anything wrong. She steered Chelsea back stage.

"Chelsea, what's going on," Rose shook her friend. It took Chelsea a moment to finally respond.

"He was one of those guys," she murmured. Rose didn't need a further explanation. "I want to get him."

"Chelsea, that is a horrible idea," Rose insisted. Chelsea shook her head.

"Rose this is something I have to do," Chelsea whispered intently.

"Please," Rose pleaded. Chelsea shook her head. Her eyes were wide and intense.

"I'm going to do this Rose. I can't live with myself if I don't," Chelsea begged her friend to understand.

Rose was torn in a similar way as her friend. She could let her friend destroy herself but to stop her had the possibility of doing the same. In that moment of indecision Chelsea slipped away. Rose followed her around. She snuck back to the dressing room and vanished for what seemed forever. When found Chelsea she was leading the bastard off to one of the reserved rooms. Chelsea shut the door as Rose saw the door shut. She padded up to the entrance.

Chelsea took the guy whose name turned out to be Fred. Maybe it was and maybe it wasn't. All she knew was she had requisitioned a straight razor from one of the girls in back (who was elsewhere). The guy had been all hands she hadn't realized she had the razor held in her bra strap hidden beneath her hair. 




Just Deserts



"Hey Tamara, Whatchya nervous about?" he chuckled. It isn't like you are a virgin. I have to admit I've always thought you had a fine rack." Chelsea was indeed shaking like a leaf. She wanted the nightmares to stop. Somehow in her tortured mind she prayed that killing him would give her some peace; getting away with it never occurred to her.

The man grabbed both breasts and squeezed them hungrily.

"So baby are you going to give me all the goods again?" he leered.

"Yes I am," Chelsea said in an empty voice which he would have noticed if he hadn't been so lust driven.

Chelsea whipped out the blade and held it to his jugular.

"Bastard!" she screamed. She was trying to kill him but couldn't make the final cut. She trembled but at her core wasn't a killer. She felt like a total failure. Her madness would never end. At the door Rose got ready to enter the room.

"What the fuck babe?" the man squawked. "What's your problem?"

"You raped me you bastard," she screamed. "You raped me and raped me and raped me."

"Huh?" the man sounded confused and fearful. "We all paid Rod $500 for a shot at you. Ask him. He said you had some rape-fantasy thing going on."

Chelsea felt gut-punched. Rose was furious; this was a whole new kind of pain for Chelsea to deal with. Now Rose entered the room while Chelsea locked up. She took the razor away.

"You cock-sucker, get the hell out of her and if I see you in this club again, I'll tell management you are trying to move drugs. You don't want to know what they will do to you," Rose threatened. The man fled from the room.

Chelsea fell into Rose's arms sobbing uncontrollably. Rose got her back to the dressing room and got the manager to give Chelsea the rest of the night off, but Rose had to return. Chelsea was clearly a mess. There was really only one person to call.

"Kyle, I need a favor," Rose asked hesitantly. She barely knew the guy.

"Sure Rose, what do you need," the sleepy man responded. "Are you okay?"

"It's Chelsea and I can't explain much. I need someone to watch her for the next few hours until I can get off. Can you do that for me ... us?"

"I'll be there," was his quick response, "in thirty minutes."

Rose said goodbye and got Chelsea poured into her car. By the time she got Chelsea into bed, still clearly stunned, Kyle arrived looking like he'd thrown on whatever was lying on the floor.

"What's going on?" he asked when Rose let him in.

"I'm not going to tell you," Rose responded. Kyle looked like he was going to stay something but he met Rose's eyes.

"Okay," he commented. "Where is she?"

"In the bedroom and if you make a move on her I'll put you into orbit," Rose promised.

"You can trust me," Kyle responded with a nod.

"I'd better be able to. Now I'll be back in three hours, so keep your hormones in check until then."

"Deal," Kyle professed. "Thanks for calling me. I won't let either of you down." Rose prayed he wasn't lying because she really didn't want to bury someone's body out in the desert. Work like that was hard on the fingernails.

The next thing Chelsea remembered was lying in her bed and not being sure how she'd gotten there. When the weight of what happened came back down she nearly crashed again. She got up and made her way to the door.

"Rose," she called out from the doorway. From the sofa Kyle sat up. Chelsea nearly freaked; the last thing she wanted to face was ... what was Kyle to her?

"Kyle, what are you doing here?" she gasped.

"Rose asked me to watch over you. I'm supposed to give you some distance, but can I make you some coffee," Kyle offered.

"I ... can you give me some space?" she told him the altered her speech by saying, "but coffee would be nice."

Kyle walked over to the kitchen and began shuffling around. In short order Chelsea had a hot cup of coffee and was being highly introspective. She looked over and saw Kyle looking at his hands. 

"Why are you here?" Chelsea asked him.

"You are my friend and Rose said you need help so I came over," Kyle shrugged.

"We aren't friends," she accused him. "We barely know each other."

"Well, I'd like for us to be friends," Kyle offered.

"We aren't going to have sex so go the fuck home," Chelsea spat.

"I'm not here for sex, Chelsea," Kyle said with some heat. "How often do I have to express that to you?"

"Until I believe you," she shot back.

"How long will that be," he answered.

"Never; which is never; now go home," Chelsea grumbled.

"No," he answered. Seeing her dig her heels in, he explained, "I promised Rose to hang out here until she got home, so I'm going to keep my promise."

"I'll call the cops," Chelsea threatened.

"Then I guess I'll go to jail if that's what you want."

"Can't you just go away?" Chelsea felt herself come close to sobbing.

"You can throw me out the door," Kyle informed her, "but if I think you need me, and I don't care what for, I'm going to stick around."

"Why!" she howled.

"I think you are worth it," Kyle said calmly.

"You don't know me at all," she declared.

"I know enough to know I like you and I'd like to know you better ... if you will let me," he said.

"You don't know me," Chelsea choked out.

"Give me time, Chelsea," Kyle pleaded. Chelsea sipped her coffee. Kyle wouldn't go away. She didn't know why. Actually she did know why; because he was a pig like all men and all he wanted was tits, ass, and pussy.

"Fine, I'll sleep with you if you promise to go away," she sighed.

"No," Kyle said with sadness.

"I hate you," she said softly.

"Okay; if that is what it takes," he confessed.

Chelsea started sobbing again. This man wouldn't go away as much as she wanted him to. She couldn't unload on him, she couldn't run to him, she couldn't attack him, or sob on his lap. He was infuriating. He didn't fit into any mold that she wanted to stick him in.

"More coffee," he offered. She gave him the cup without comment. They were still sitting there when Rose walked in.

Rose looked from Chelsea to Kyle and back again.

"How are things Chelsea?" she asked her friend.

"Kyle and I were talking," Chelsea said with a degree of secrecy.

"Really?" Rose asked.

"I think we've agreed to not agree for the time being," Kyle confessed. "Are we still on for tomorrow – I mean tonight?" Both Rose and Chelsea stared at him.

"I don't think ..." Rose began.

"Sure," Chelsea interrupted. Kyle smiled. 

"I'll be going then, unless someone needs me here," Kyle said. Rose held the door for him and Chelsea nodded for him to go.

"I don't think that is wise," Rose advised Chelsea.

"What am I going to do Rose; hide in this house for the rest of my life? I have to deal with men every day. If I can't deal with Kyle, as safe as he is, how am I going to deal with men sticking money in my G-string?"

Rose stroked her cheek and kneeled before her.

"Chelsea, you nearly killed a guy tonight? That's not safe."

"Almost being the key word, Rose. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I didn't have what it takes. Knowing that Rodney was behind it hurts more, but I've got to find another way to deal."

Rose leaned in and hugged her lover to her.

"Let's go to bed," Chelsea, "I'm exhausted."

"Let me grab a quick bite to eat," Rose answered. She was pretty exhausted mentally and physically too. When she got into bed with Chelsea she was asleep. An hour later the nightmare returned with the gloating face of her first real boyfriend hanging over it all. He had been the first man to say he loved her, yet she knew the bastard at the club wasn't lying.

(Chelsea and Kyle)

Chelsea brought Kyle to the club for their date; they pigged out on nachos and pigs in-a-blankets. Girls came over and teased Kyle, which was a routine way to treat other dancer's boyfriends. Kyle was slightly embarrassed but was generous with his patronage so they turned out to be quite popular. After the club they stopped by a bar for a few drinks with some of the other dancers. 

Kyle was dragging when they got out of the drinking establishment.

"Home?' he sighed with fatigue.

"Yes, let's go to your home," Chelsea told him.

"Chelsea, we don't have ..." Kyle sounded more alert and surprised all of a sudden.

"I know we don't; it is important to me," Chelsea insisted.

"Chelsea you've come off a rough time," Kyle persisted.

"Which is why I need to do this; I'm not using you, but I promise you that I need this," Chelsea assured.

"Okay, I'm tired of putting you off, but I want something from you," Kyle stated.

"What is it?" Chelsea wondered if Kyle had some sort of kink or what.

"Promise me you'll come to the lake house with me this weekend," he asked. Usually guys didn't want a second date until after the sex so this was kind of weird.

"Sure; just the two of us for a day would be nice," Chelsea agreed.

"Yeah," he grinned, "something like that." Chelsea began running her hands across him before they pulled into his driveway. It was a nice place, not too expensive but something a successfully professional type might live in.

"Nice place," Chelsea snickered to him as they were struggling to get inside – it was more him struggling against her advances. Chelsea pushed Kyle into the closest chair and straddled his lap, her breasts pressed into his chest. She ran her fingers through his hair, tilted his face up to her lips.

"The bra clasps in the front," she teased him. Her half-bra barely controlled her bosom as it was. She had dressed preparing herself for this plunge, if she'd felt strong enough. Kyle seemed unable to figure out where he wanted to place his hands first. He started holding her ass and squeezing her ass cheeks. This had the added benefit of driving her pelvis into his.

Chelsea reached down and pulled his hands up to her side to her breasts. His fingers fumbled with her buttons to the point she helped him remove two of them. She was struck how much he trembled.

"You don't do this much," Chelsea noted seductively.

"Yeah, it's been two years," he confessed. "I've only been with two women before you." Chelsea that was kind of sweet, and a little humorous and sad too. Kyle was too good looking for this to make sense in a normal way. Maybe there was something about him to. While she was thinking that through, he got her bra free and dove into her breasts. There was nothing wrong with his instincts.

Chelsea pulled his lips close and began riding his crotch. She began feeling how much she needed this. She was afraid; afraid she couldn't perform, or wouldn't want to perform.

"Bedroom," she said breathlessly to Kyle. She slid off him and followed along in the direction he was pointing. 

She expertly shred her clothes as she got there, reducing herself to a thong as she plopped onto his bed. Kyle stumbled in a second later and stopped short of the bed.

"Yes?" Chelsea summoned with her finger.

"You're beautiful," he whispered.  "I had no idea ..."

"Get over here and show me how much you want me," Chelsea smiled. Kyle looked so eager, almost worshipful. Kyle wasn't quite worshipping, but he was undoubtedly grateful for the bounty he was about to receive. Already naked he climbed on the bed and crawled on top of Chelsea. Like a lot of guys he was over-eager, going for the breasts and pussy right off the bat.

Chelsea slipped his hands up and moved them where she wanted them. To his credit he was an eager learner. She switched between kisses on her lips and her breasts, plus he kept his hands above the hips. When she felt she was ready to go, she whispered,

"Now," and his hands went down inside of her panties and sampled her wetness.

She wanted more from their love-making but she also knew he was inexperienced so she led him to the late stage earlier than she would have liked. He slipped her thong off and slipped two fingers into then pulled them out and tasted them. That put him up several pegs in her book.

"Let me taste too," she purred to him. As he responded he moved between her hips and got read to enter her.

As Chelsea sucked her own juices off his fingers he pushed his way in, slowly but steadily. He reached down and stretched her farther open. Before she could bring it to his attention, he returned his juice-covered fingers back to her lips again.

"Mmmm," she murmured. That was a nice trick she could enjoy. He was then pulling all the way out, sticking her fingers deep inside her, and then thrusting back in.

He kept this up until he began to shake. Chelsea wrapped her legs around him and pulled him deeper in until he finally had his orgasm. She felt his hot semen injected into her and she came to that desperate conclusion she could deal with it. She wasn't overwhelmed, or had succumbed to the revulsion of a man's touch; she'd been okay.

She hugged Kyle to her and felt tears in her eyes.

"Sorry," Kyle said.

"Huh?" Chelsea wondered out loud.

"You didn't cum, but I'm willing to keep trying," he grinned. She realized he hadn't gotten soft, and then she remembered he was five years younger. He began moving in and out again. Coaxing him to her orgasm wasn't that difficult at all.

(Chelsea and Rose)

Rose looked at Chelsea walk into the apartment and putting her keys on the table, waiting for her roommate to say something. Seeing the look in Rose's eyes, Chelsea gave a weak smile.

"We did it," she said.

"That bastard," Rose growled getting up and heading to Chelsea.

"No, it was my idea. He fought me off as long as he could, but Rose, I had to do this. If this beats me now I'll never get over with. Kyle cares about me and if it didn't work out with him he wouldn't hold it against me. Don't you see that?" Chelsea explained.

"I still think he was taking advantage of you," Rose griped.

"Trust me, in the bedroom I took advantage of him," Chelsea grinned.

"No great shakes?" Rose smiled.

"Not in your league," Chelsea replied, "but he tries hard. If it does end up working out, he'll get quite good."

"Chelsea ... what about us?" Rose asked.

"What about us Rose? Do you want me to dump him because of what we have together? I will if you want me to," Chelsea said cautiously. Rose thought that one over. Chelsea had been a mess when they had hooked up three years ago and they had come a long way together, but she'd never considered her happiness and Chelsea's to be anything but the same.

"No," Rose said as she touched Chelsea's hand, "I want you to be happy and if Kyle makes you happy ... too, I'm willing to accept that." It wasn't a ringing endorsement of Kyle, but it wasn't a 'dump him' either.

"Thank you Rose. This will work out," Chelsea answered.



Just Deserts



Ladies and gentlemen, the tale I am about to tell you is a sordid one of lust and deceit. None of the principal characters is any better than he or she should be, and the plot of the story is reprehensible. Yet in the end, pride is brought low and a thoroughly nasty bitch learns a lesson through shame, humiliation, and, paradoxically, pleasure.

The ancient Ming city of Suchow, near the mouth of the Yangtze River is called the Venice of China for its canals, its elegance, and above all for its love of pleasure. It is the center of the silk industry, and the capital of pleasure. The music is gentle and soothing, unlike the whanging and banging of Peking opera, and the food is sweet and salty, not the fire of Szechuan. 

Suchow has always been known as the home of the most beautiful women in the Celestial Kingdom; and the members of the Midnight Scholar's little harem -- Aunt Chen and her nieces Cassia, Pearl, and Jade -- prove the rule. 

But wait! I hear you ask. Why would beautiful, elegant young women spoil any chance of a good marriage by indulging in such festivities? Readers, to ask the question is to know the answer. A pretty face can justify any crime. Hardly a murderess or a bandit queen comes before the law court without being inundated with gifts, love letters, marriage proposals. Women as fetching as our subjects can always find husbands – if only they can avoid too scrupulous an inspection of their privates before marriage.

Cassia, the youngest of the nieces at eighteen, is a merry little monkey, always chattering and laughing. With her slender hips and tiny breasts, she could easily be mistaken for a young boy, though she is all woman. Cassia, alone of the three cousins, is a virgin, though how long she remains one is anyone's guess. Not long, I'll wager!

Pearl, twenty-one, tall and slender like her aunt, is dreamy and thoughtful. Often lost in her thoughts, she has often set fire to the kitchen through lack of attention. She spends hours looking out the window, lost in her own thoughts. One thing, however, is guaranteed to wake her from her reveries: sex.

Jade, twenty five years old, with rounded breasts and hips, alas, tends to be jealous and even spiteful. Other women have liveries and palaces, but she lives with her aunt. And why, she often wonders aloud, has her aunt not found her a rich husband yet? What is she waiting for?

Aunt Chen herself is forty years old, tall and elegant. She always impresses, recites poetry in a low, melodious voice, is skilled at calligraphy and plays the lute to perfection. Alas, Chen is haughty and condescending to her wards. She can hardly play a song or copy a poem without extolling her own ability and disparaging that of her nieces. Nevertheless, she keeps a good table and she has inherited a large house in which her nieces are more than happy. More than happy, indeed, for with their mutual fingerings, and kissing, together with the Midnight Scholar's attentions, not one of the women experiences fewer than three orgasms a day, and on some days, many more.

To begin this afternoon's session Aunt Chen has provided a deck of cards. Each player is to draw a card depicting one of the fifty-two positions of love. 

One card shows a naked beauty on her back with lwhite egs hanging off the bed, while a man kneels on cushions between her legs. "Horse position," reads the caption beneath the picture. "The lovers do not thrust, but gently sway."

Another card shows a man sitting in lotus while a woman, also in lotus, sits on his lap. "Lotus position," read the ideograms. "The lovers rock back and forth."

A third shows a woman lying on her back on a table, while man holds her legs apart and aloft as he stands between them. "Double Crane," reads the text. "The man thrusts deeply. Care must be taken in this position that the man does not thrust too far, and it is not suitable for virgins, nor for women only recently accustomed to love."

NowJade draws a card not to her liking. It shows a woman bent over a table as her lover apparently enters the wrong hole.

"Ugh! What are they doing?"

"How disgusting!"

"If you ask me, it would be impossible."

"This card is called "I Want to Get Married, says Aunt Chen in a superior tone as she arches her eyebrows. " I'm surprised you don't know such an appealing story." Cassia and Jade look at each other and roll their eyes. "Once upon a time, a boy and a girl fell in love. Alas, the girl's social station was far above the boy's. Does a princess consort with a groom? Marriage between the two was impossible. Nevertheless, they yearned and burned for one another. When the boy put his hand on the girl's breast, she caught it by the wrist.

"I want to get married," said the maiden. "You know perfectly well that my fiance's female relatives will inspect my privates before the wedding. If they see that I am not a virgin, the match will be cancelled, and I might as well hang myself."

"By way of answer, her lover produced his member, which was long and hard.

"I want to get married," the girl repeated. "Nothing can change that. But perhaps you could visit me through the back door. Would that satisfy you?"

"It would and it did, and in this way the lovers reached their end without the loss of the young woman's virtue. Now," says Aunt Chen, "We have wasted enough time. Let us get to work. Off with all these clothes."

So the women, and their fortunate swain, strip away their clothes. The Midnight Scholar is pleased to see that all his partners have removed every vestige of pubic hair, leaving their skin perfectly bare and as smooth as ivory. The little lips can feel the touch of an eyelash, or the slightest whisper of breath. 

Now the ladies use the bed as a card table, so that Aunt Chen deals each woman, including herself, an illustrated tile. 

Aunt Chen insists on going first, of course, but when she turns her card, she recoils. The gods, it seems, have intervened, and Aunt Chen has drawn "I Want to Get Married."

"No! Never!" she protests. "I want a new card." 

"Nonsense!" cry the others. "If any of us had got that card, you would have made us keep it.

It was the Midnight Scholar who suggests a compromise.

"It's only a game, after all. Let her take the position shown, and then we can let her go and the game can continue."

So, reluctantly, Aunt Chen bends over the edge of the bed. She lays her head on the mattress, stretches out her arms, and raises her lovely rear end. 

In a trice, Pearl and Jade seize her by the arms. Reader, being held by two people is like being held by six; there is simply no way for the woman to escape, though she twists from side to side and dances from one bare foot to the other. Eventually, tired out, she ceases to struggle but not to complain.

"This game has gone on long enough," she says. "Let me go, now."

"I don't know," says the man. "Let us ask The Authority."

But the Authority is in no mood to desist. In fact, he has grown an inch longer and he is desperately anticipating the tight squeeze ahead.

"I'm afraid we must continue," sighs the Scholar. "That card was the will of the goddess of love, you know, and I have no desire to anger her. Do you want my testicles to shrivel up and drop off?"

"I wish they would," snarls Aunt Chen.

The Scholar only laughs. And his testicles, far from shriveling or dropping off, bob and dance.

The Midnight Scholar, who had perhaps been thinking ahead, opens a jar of salve and begins to load the unguent into Chen's rear blossom with an affectionate finger.

"What are you doing?" cries the victim as the first fingerful goes in.

"This is really too much!" she protests at the second. "I agreed to take up the position, not to let you probe my bottom with your great big importunate finger."

"I shall lodge a complaint," she threatens at the third fingerful, though really, to whom would she complain? Not to the authorities, that is certain, and still less to her family.

"Now you've smeared that stuff all over my bottom."

"Not only on it, my lady,"pointed out the Scholar, "but in it as well. I have packed your rear end with grease. But don't worry. It will make the proceedings much easier."

"Ooh," cries Chen as she stamps her little foot in fury.

The Scholar laughs again.

Chen steals a glance at the Midnight Scholar's member, already erect, and what she sees both pleases and terrifies her. Her husband, it is true, used to enter by the back door occasionally, but his puny penis was nothing at all compared to the monster she now beholds. The Midnight Scholar's prick is fully nine inches long, and thick in proportion. It is maroon, with a broad head, and the veins pulsing on its surface look like snakes. To make matters worse, Cassia grabs it with her little hand, bends her neck, and licks the penis all over (it is too big for her to suck), but instead of placating the beast, her affections serve only to inflame it further. 

Everyone in the room is breathing heavily now, as four of the participants eagerly await the fuck, while one just as fervently dreads it. Vengeful Jade longs to see her imperious aunt humiliated and chastised, while Cassia wants the Scholar to feel the pleasure of the vise-like grip of Chen's rear end. As for willowy, dreamy Pearl: she is simply excited by the sight and smell of genitals in heat and eager is for the combat to begin. The Scholar's countenance, l;ike those of the young ladies, is red with desire, and Aunt Chen's is the reddest of all, though whether from lust, shame, anger, or perhaps all three is not for me to say.

The Midnight Scholar places the head of his engine against Chen's little pink starfish, now glistening with ointment, and strives to enter. And strives. The angry muscle refuses to admit the intruder and though Cassia stands behind the man and pushes on his buttocks, he cannot enter the woman's puckered orifice. Chen herself smiles grimly.

"There, you see?" she says into the mattress. "I told you it wouldn't go in. Now let me up and let us forget this whole incident."

Instead, the Midnight Scholar has an idea. He thinks he might find an ally in his victim's neighboring parts. He remembers having seen a woman's anus open in tandem with her vagina under sexual excitement, and the memory suggests a course of action.

Chen's mound is fleshy, and so full that she can never completely close her thighs. The outer and inner lips of her vulva are purple, as is the hood of her large clitoris. The clitoris itself, however, is bright red, and when it stands (which is often), it looks for all the world like a red-faced monk wearing a purple cloak around his shoulders. 

The Midnight Scholar tells Cassia to tickle the pussy, and the little monkey laughs and complies.

"Don't you dare," Chen scolds her niece, though the minx is not listening.

Chen, of course, tries to keep her thighs closed as tightly as possible, but a darkish line still shows between the violet lips, and Cassia strokes this line rapidly, barely touching it. After a minute of this process, Chen sighs and involuntarily opens her legs, as Cassia instantly thrusts her little hand between them. Seizing the two full lips with thumb and forefinger, Cassia alternately squeezes and releases them so as to stimulate the hooded watchman within. The girl's nimble, eager fingertips scamper over the surface of the pussy, and occasionally wiggle in between the lips as Chen sighs and squirms. The clitoris, tickled beyond bearing, stands erect now, free of lips and folds, naked and exposed to the world.

And something else happens as well. Urged by the younger woman's trembling hand, Chen's pussy begins to drool like the village idiot and its mouth to open wide, as if trying to articulate its desire. More important for our story, the pussy's neighbor begins to imitate the vagina out of sympathy or perhaps jealousy, the and sphincter, too opens, Not gaping, not wide, but not clenched shut, either.

When he sees his opening, so to speak, the Midnight Scholar's warrior springs into action, pushing his broad head and shoulders into the narrow opening despite stout resistance. The guardian relents, and Chen groans with rage and defeat when she feels the invader deep within, while the three nieces cheer.

"You'd better only give her half," urges Pearl. "You don't want to kill her."

"Ha, ha," laughs Jade "Give her the whole thing! Would she have had mercy on any of us? I don't think so."

But the Midnight Scholar, who was a reasonable man, though a lustful one, listens to Pearl, and pauses at the midpoint, which he can judge by the feel of the tight collar halfway down his shaft. In fact, the Midnight Scholar would have felt more pleasure had he availed himself of one of Chen's other organs: her tickling, massaging tongue, or her warm, clinging vagina. Instead, her sphincter feels like a steel band behind the head of his penis, and the head itself is alone, isolated, even lonely. But, the Midnight Scholar reminds himself, his aim is not his own pleasure, but to punish and instruct the hard-hearted woman he has impaled. Her passage constricts and tries to evict the trespasser, but eventually relaxes, and, though she does not welcome him, accepts his presence. After all, what choice does she have? All the same, the man is glad Chen has no teeth back there.

"Keep tickling," he tells Cassia, who laughs and eagerly complies, flicking, strumming, even slapping at the unruly clitoris. Chen's eyes are closed, she moans and sighs, and her nipples are as stiff as wooden pegs. After a minute or two, Chen gasps for breath and the Midnight Scholar feels the collar around his penis grip like a vise, four, five, six times, then relax. Cassia ceases her titillations to give her aunt a little rest, then starts up again, for the woman's clitoris has never flagged. 

At the same time, the Midnight Scholar begins to move: an inch and a half in, an inch and a half back as Chen again catches fire. Pearl and Jade, seeing that both the Scholar and Chen are now wearing that look of concentration, the knit eyebrows, shut eyes, the grimace that all herald the approach of the cloudburst. The nieces release Chen's arms. Now only thing holding Chen in place is the Scholar's erect penis. In theory, the woman is free to jump up, to scream and run from the room; instead, however, she lies passive, skewered by the man's prick. Chen's vagina pouts and mugs in tandem with her mouth, and her scarlet clitoris, maddened by Cassia's flicking fingers, twitches and bobs in its indigo coat.

The Midnight Scholar moves back and forth about ten times, then he feels his own orgasm approaching like a storm, gathering first in his lower back, then his buttocks, and finally at the root of his prick before bursting forth in a torrent of itching lava just as Chen's sphincter grips the penis again, four, five six times and the woman whimpers as though under torture.

After a minute's rest, the Midnight Scholar slowly withdraws his weapon. The shaft makes a sly sucking noise as it leaves; when the shoulders of his glans clear the pink ring, Chen yelps and there is a "pop" like a stopper being withdrawn from a stone wine jug.

The Midnight Scholar takes a seat as Chen rests with eyes closed, exhausted. But the scene is far from over for the three young cousins. Pearl and Jade lie on the mattress, licking each other furiously, while Cassia sits fingering her pleasure groove and gazing longingly at the Midnight Scholar's penis, as long as ever but now only half stiff. What must it be like, she wonders, to have that throbbing, glistening monster buried deep inside her, to feel the warm jets of life-giving fluid? Would it even fit? Yet it had gone into her aunt's tight back entrance just minutes before. Where there's a will, there's a way, she thinks to herself.

Aunt Chen's rear is sore for two or three days, but even she admits that her punishment was well deserved, and confesses that she enjoyed the encounter.

And she swears never to lord it over her nieces again.



Just Deserts



Friday night, our favourite restaurant, and my husband was finally home. He dismissed the sweet trolley, ordering black coffees instead. When the waiter left, he pulled an envelope from his breast pocket and placed it on the table in front of me.

"I believe there's enough cream here to more than compensate for missing dessert." 

I looked at him, then at the envelope, then back at him.

"Tell me you're not creaming yourself Holly!"

My stomach clenched. Simon's face was stern, his tone indignant. Something was dreadfully wrong. I opened the envelope. Photos, several different naked men, but I was in all the shots. My heart thumped as blood rushed to my head. I felt sick to my stomach.

"It...It's not what..." I stammered.

Simon held his hand up to silence me as the waiter returned. Neither of us spoke until he left.

"Holly, I hired a private detective. The evidence is irrefutable. You've disappointed me. I thought I gave you everything you wanted."

"Please, Simon," I said quietly, mortified that I'd been found out. Desperate that the other diners, people who knew us, wouldn't hear what was being said. 

"It's not what it looks like. You're away on business so much. I miss you. These mean nothing," I pleaded, placing the photos face down on the table, shoving them away.

"Clearly they mean something," he snarled. "They prove you are an alley cat, constantly in heat."

He sat back in his chair and composed himself.


"Quite simply, you have two choices. I can divorce you or you can go to the Finishing School."

"What?" 

He'd caught me off guard. I didn't know what the Finishing School was but I knew I didn't want a divorce. There was only one option. If I wanted to keep my marriage then I would have to attend this school.

Eight weeks later, a sentinel, my personal tutor, delivered me home, re-formed and enlightened, in accordance with my husband's instructions. Relieved to see Simon's Jaguar in the driveway, I rang the bell and waited. He opened the door and took my hand, drawing me inside the stately house. My heart skipped and my lust flared at the sight of him. Tall, strong, powerful, I craved his forgiveness and his touch. Weak with relief, I smiled. I was home. I was safe. 

"You look well Holly," he said formally, as he bent to brush his lips across mine, then stood back to examine me.

"Let me take your coat."

His deep voice set me trembling, my nerves jagged with anticipation. I held my breath. His elegant hands reached for my shoulders, caressing them, stroking my arms, resting briefly either side of my waist, but he didn't pull me close. Then his hands moved to my breasts, circling my nipples. Instantly they stood erect, protruding through the silk sheath dress. When he pinched them, hard, gripping my nipple rings and pushing them into the delicate flesh of my areola, I cried out. I tried not to wince or utter a sound but I couldn't help it. All the while he stared impassively at my face. 

"Are you horny Holly?".

"Yes," I mumbled, lowering my eyes. 

"Yes what?" demanded Simon.

"Yes... Simon." 

"Come, come Holly," he chided, "what were you taught?"

At the Finishing School, a secret institution, I learned to freely submit myself so I may be used in any way my masters see fit. All men are my masters but Simon is my supreme Master.

"Yes Master," I whispered.

"Louder Holly, be specific."

"Yes Master, I am very horny."

"Of course you are," he mocked, tilting my chin, staring straight at me. "You're nothing but a fuck slut, isn't that so?" 

"Yes Master."

Simon nodded his satisfaction. I was jubilant. He had claimed me. I was still his.

"We're going out to dinner tonight, with a business colleague of mine," he said. "I've left out what I want you to wear.

At the School they stripped me bare - my body, my mind and my soul, exposing my carnal nature. The outfit was appropriate, given my disposition. A red and black basque with suspenders, silk stockings, a black, body hugging dress made of a flexible but expensive material and red patent high heels. There were no panties of course. My masters must have access to any of my fuck holes at all times. I applied my make-up, outlining my eyes with dark kohl, applying thick, long lashes and creating fat, luscious lips with a pencil and bright scarlet lipstick. I rouged my cheeks, my nipples and my clit. 

The full-length mirror reflected a high class hooker. Is that what I was to Simon now, nothing more than a slut? Perhaps divorce might have been the better option. And yet, I looked stunning. Finally I could be what I was deep inside. Simon set me free. Not only is he the man I adore but he knows me so well; he released my inner self.

Gone was the studied appearance of a wealthy wife. Instead was a siren, with voluptuous breasts and a petite waist. My body was sculptured by perverse diet, whale-bone corsets and fiendish sexual antics. Only my short stature remained unchanged but the stiletto heels and very short hem line elongated my shapely legs.

Downstairs, in the library, Simon beckoned to me. I approached with bated breath. Wordlessly he reached down and slid his hand under my dress. He stroked the inside of my thigh until he reached my crotch, my skin tingling as he caressed my naked pussy. My clit grew more swollen, opening my sex lips further, making my fuck juices ooze out. All the while, Simon's eyes never moved from my face. I sighed with pleasure as he slowly trailed along my bikini-waxed bush, silently willing him to plunder me with his fingers. Instead he took hold of my clit ring and tugged it, viciously. I cried out in shock and pain, bewildered by his actions.

"Just checking," he said maliciously.

When he offered me a straight scotch, I knocked it back. The spitefulness in his voice frightened me. My clit throbbed from his brutal assault and yet I craved him even more. Unprepared for his vindictiveness and panicky about what might lay ahead, the scotch helped settle my nerves.

In the car, Simon told me to pull my dress up around my waist, spread my legs and play with myself. He wanted to hear me climax while he was driving

At first the leather seat felt cold against my bare bottom, but as I started to play with my clit, teasing it with my fingertips, my suppressed lust mounted. Warmth flowed through my body, tightening in my belly, hardening my nipples and making me sopping wet. I reeked of sex.

"Pull down your top," ordered Simon, "I want to see your tits."

I tugged the flexible fabric of my neckline down so that it rested beneath the fullness of my breasts. The basque revealed most of my fleshy bosom, including my newly pierced nipples. Even with the neckline in place I appeared to be spilling out of the dress.

As my climax mounted, I moaned involuntarily. Instinctively I thrust my hips forward, my fingers slipping back and forth, rubbing my nub, making me crazy to be penetrated. Lost in sexual oblivion and on the cusp of coming, Simon's left hand reached across and began fondling my breasts. His fingertips kneaded my soft, pliant flesh. He toyed with a nipple ring, rolling it between his finger and thumb, sending waves of exquisite pleasure coursing through me. Suddenly he twisted it, dispelling all euphoria, subjugating my impending climax. Excruciating pain overwhelmed me. I cried out in anguish and then whimpered in frustration as my climax receded, dulling to a harsh, pulsating throb. 

"We're almost there," he said calmly, as if nothing had transpired. "Tidy yourself."

Obediently I pulled my dress back into place, covering my body as best I could. Appalled at having displayed my ravenous sexuality, I was crushed that my husband no longer seemed to fancy me. Pulling the sun visor down, I checked my make-up as the car drew up outside a plush city hotel and a valet waited to park it.

Teetering behind Simon through the brightly lit lobby and into the luxurious bar, I willed myself to ignore the whisperings from the people there. I knew how I looked to the outside world, a flagrant whore. I had chosen this rather than lose the man I loved. For him no sacrifice was too great and yet, my heart thumped against my chest as he directed me towards a man we both knew who was standing at the bar.

"Charles, good to see you," said Simon, shaking hands with the man. "And of course you know my wife Holly."

Charles looked at me with surprise and then blatant lust. He's a turgid man, unkempt despite his tailor's best efforts. He has an irritating nasal voice, a lecherous disposition, and I loath him.

"Holly, I wouldn't have recognised you," he said. "You've certainly changed your look."

"For the better, don't you think?" smirked Simon, "she always was a tart and now she looks like one."

In fairness to Charles, he had the decency to look abashed at my husband's crude remark, while my face flamed with embarrassment. 

"Tut, tut, Simon," he blustered, "that's a bit rich, even for you."

"But it's true. You've always thought so, which is why I wanted you to be the first to see my newly reincarnated wife. She's a right slapper and I should know." 

Simon laughed at his own joke and Charles, not wanting to appear the dimwit that he is, chuckled along with him.

While Simon ordered three scotch on the rocks, Charles went in search of a bar stool for me. I rarely drink spirits, preferring wine, but I no longer have a choice. We moved to the furthest corner of the bar. When Charles returned, Simon placed the stool facing the wall. He indicated that Charles should stand in front of me and then he hoisted me up onto the high seat. The hem of my dress rode up, displaying the tops of my gartered lace stockings and an inch of tantalising naked flesh. Instinctively my hand lurched to pull it down. Simon grabbed my wrist and placed it by my side. Then he moved behind me and reaching round, crassly pulled my thighs apart, spreading my legs, his fingers stroking my exposed skin.

I felt a rush of fuck juices from my pussy. From the way Charles lewdly gawked at me, I knew he could smell my horny musk and see my hardened nipples.

"Nice?" murmured Simon.

"Oh yes," I gasped, leaning my head back against his chest. Aroused by his touch, my wantonness quickly resurfaced.

"Yes what?" demanded Simon once again.

"Yes Master," I whispered, tilting my head towards him and away from Charles's stare. 

"Louder."

"Yes Master," I replied, loud enough so Charles and the nearby barman could hear.

I lowered my eyes and my head, reminded of my place, yielding to my Master's authority.

"I say you two," wheezed Charles, placing his finger under the knot in his tie and loosening it, opening the top button of his shirt. "Are you indulging in some kind of sex game here?"

"Oh Holly loves to play, don't you sweetheart?"

Simon lifted my chin so Charles could see my face when I answered.

"Yes Master," I said, heartened by my husband's proprietary touch and pleased with the effect I was having on Charles.

Simon wasn't trying to humiliate me. He was simply allowing me to be the fuck slut that secretly I have always been. Now, free from society's shackles, I am complete in a way that is beyond definition or description.

As a reward for my outspoken loyalty, Simon raised his hands and began to gently stroke my nipples through the sheer fabric of my dress. They tightened, protruding like ripen cherries under his skilled touch. 

Charles's breath was ragged as he turned towards the bar, as much to hide his stiffening penis as to call the barman's attention. When the barman came to our end of the counter, his eyes flickered towards my husband's hands massaging my breasts, and then looked away with poised professionalism.

"Three scotch", said Charles "and make them doubles."

When the barman returned with our drinks, Simon said "Todd," checking his name tag, "could you see if our table is ready, for Prendergast?"

"Somewhere discreet sir?" he asked with a knowing wink.

"What time do you finish, Todd?"

"I'm here 'til closing sir, whenever all the residents have been served."

"We'll see you later then."

"You've booked a room?" asked Charles when Todd had left.

"Yes."

Simon had also booked a booth at the back of the dimly lit Portabella Room. When I sat down, Simon ushered Charles in beside me. He's a stout man and I was tightly packed against the wall. Charles was elated at being able to rub against me on the pretence of the confined space.

"That's right," said Simon to Charles. "Relax, make yourself comfortable."

"As long as Holly doesn't feel too restricted," replied Simon coyly.

"Oh I think you'll find she's loosening up nicely."

After dinner, Charles excused himself, to make a phone call. As soon as he left, 

Simon moved to sit beside me.

"Naughty girl," he said, "poor Charles had to go and wank himself. You're driving him demented with lust. And who could blame him? You look ravishing."

Charles slipped his hand up my dress, prizing my legs apart, thrusting two of his fingers into my sopping pussy.

I moaned in ecstasy, opening my legs wider, frantic for more. 

"Soon my little fuck slut," he whispered, withdrawing his hand and lifting his fingers to my mouth to watch me suck them. 

"Please Master," I begged, "please fuck me."

I was aching with pent up sexual frustration. In the Finishing School I was fucked mercilessly, day and night. I was used to having my orgasms thwarted. I was taught my sexual release was of no consequence. Only my master's wishes, desires, and needs mattered. However, Simon playing with me was more erotic than anything I had ever experienced. He wrapped his arms around me and stroked my long hair. I breathed in his masculinity, my body craving him desperately, my desire to be fucked by him agonizing.

Look, I have a present for you."

Simon reached into his pocket and took out a fullet, a small silver devise the size of a compact tampon, electronically engineered to modulate the urges of sex slaves. He rolled it between his finger and thumb so I could see. I gasped and then shuddered as my pussy clenched with anticipation. He lowered his hand again and pushed the fullet into my vagina. It glided in. Taking the remote control from his pocket, he hit a button. The fullet moved to the back wall of my uterus, where it lodged and began emitting low-level pulsations. The familiar sensations swirled inside me, lulling my cravings. I gazed devotedly at my Master.

Simon insisted Charles join us in our suite for a night cap. In the elevator, the pulsations intensified as Simon increased the velocity of the fullet. Before stepping out onto our floor, he grabbed my waist and pulled me back onto his hard erection, grinding it up and down between the slit of my bum, teasing my ass-hole. 

"Show me what you learned at school," he whispered. "Seduce Charles." 

As I strutted down the corridor in front of the men, the fullet expanded, stretching the walls of my pussy, filling me with wanton lust. My Master had commanded me. If I succeeded and he was pleased, then he would fuck me.

Inside the suite, a bottle of champagne awaited us. Simon moved to open it. I stood in the middle of the room and posed. Charles sat nervously in a leather high-backed chair, glancing between the two of us. The atmosphere was electric. 

Simon handed me a flute, one to Charles, and then sat in a chair beside him. It was show time. I deliberately tipped my glass down my cleavage, champagne soaking the front my dress, all the while eyeing my prey.

"Oh, how clumsy of me," I mewed. "Forgive me gentlemen, but I must take this off."

Crossing my arms, I reached down and slowly pulled the wet dress over my head, revealing my sexy lingerie. 

Charles gasped. His eyes filled with desire and then cunning. He made to stand up, but Simon gently restrained him, as Charles had hoped he would.

"You're among friends", said Simon. "Surely you want to admire my wife's assets? She's a slut you know? She's dying to be fucked."

Charles's penis was straining against his trousers again. I strutted over to his chair, widened my legs and straddled him. Seductively I removed his tie and opened his shirt buttons. Then I leaned in, rubbing my tits against his chest, thrusting my hips so I could feel his hardening cock against my clit, riding him through the fabric of his trousers.

"Fuck me," I moaned in his ear, riding him harder, releasing my thwarted climax.

"Yes. Oh yes. Aaaahhhh..."

Charles shuddered as he ejaculated into his pants. He sagged against me for a few moments, stunned and gasping for breath. Stepping off him, I looked at my Master, seeking his approval. Simon smiled then nodded his head towards the bedroom. I left the two men alone.

When I heard the door close, I returned to the sitting room without the fullet inside me. It had expelled itself.

"Was that to your satisfaction Master?"

"Indeed. I do believe that contract is guaranteed now. I'll confirm it next week. I always knew you were an asset."

His words cut me deep. I adored him and yet to him, I was just an asset.

"Sweetheart, no need to look at me like that," he said, "but you've a lot to make up for."

I hung my head in shame.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. You know I love you."

"And I love you. All I ever wanted was to give you everything you desired. But I'm old, and you want young bucks."

"No, I swear to you. They were poor substitutes. I love sex, you know that, but you weren't there!"

"Holly, I can't fuck you as much as you need, and you do need to be fucked, don't you?"

"Yes Master, I'm a fuck-slut."

"But you're my fuck-slut. You know that now, don't you?"

"Oh Master I'm yours, I always was, please, please fuck me."

Simon tilted my chin, bent down and kissed me, deeply, passionately, lovingly.

There was a knock at the door. Simon opened it.

"Todd. Good of you to join us. Finished for the night?"

"Yes sir. You asked that I make my last call to your room."

"So you're off duty now. Do have a drink. By the way, I'd be much obliged if you'd service my wife, if you don't mind me watching?"

Todd followed my husband into the room and he stared at me, brazenly, admiring the raunchy basque, the sheer stockings and my exposed pussy. He had no fear. My husband had offered me to him

"Are you sure sir?"

Todd was seeking permission, absolute confirmation. Simon liked that, acknowledgement of his ownership.

"Don't you want to fuck my wife?"

"Oh yes sir. Very much sir! She is exceedingly fuckable".

"Holly, show Todd what you have to offer."

I sauntered over to champagne bucket, deliberately standing with my back to the men. Widening my legs, I bent over to pour Todd a glass, displaying my bare buttocks and tight pussy. Returning with the bottle to refill Simon's glass, I rolled the ice cold bottle across my breasts, making my nipples protrude, leaving tiny droplets on my skin.

Todd's gulped his champagne, keen to progress to more salacious activities.

"Let's move to the bedroom," said Simon. 

I took Todd's hand and he followed us. He stripped off, unselfconsciously, proud of his body. Fit, with broad shoulders and a slim waist, he had a huge protruding cock. I wanted him to ram it inside me.

"Holly, on the bed, spread-eagled," said Simon. 

Simon tied me to the bed, my arms, my legs, I was completely vulnerable. He had all the toys, even a gag that was an inflatable cock. I was rendered silent no matter how loud I tried to scream.

"Lick her pussy," ordered Simon.

Reverently, Todd moved towards the bed, lying beside me. He would not be rushed. His mouth and fingers gently explored and tasted my body, like a connoisseur savouring an exquisite delicacy. He nuzzled and kissed my neck, burrowing his hands in my long hair. His sucked on my engorged nipples, rolling my nipple rings between his tongue and teeth, sending waves of pleasure from my breasts to my pussy. His fingers traced invisible circles on my flat belly, all the while slowly moving downwards. Finally he started to lap my fuck juices, making me buck and squirm and want cock more than I ever had before. 




Just Deserts



Simon was still fully clothed and leaning against the dresser, observing everything. 

Todd's hands cupped my ass cheeks, lifting my pussy to his mouth, teasing my fuck hole with his tongue, nipping at my nub, taking my clit ring in his mouth and gently tugging on it. I arched my back as my climax mounted, sizzled, and then peaked. My body continued to jerk as if flooded with a high charge of electricity. He leaned back on his knees, watching me writhe and strain against my bonds, as waves of pleasure continued to rack my body. He still had a raging hard-on and now he wanted to fuck me.

Simon stepped forward and unleashed me, leaving the gag in place.

"She wants to ride your cock," he said.

"Really, are you sure? I'd like that."

Todd lay back on the bed, the veins on his cock bulging, the tip almost purple. Greedily I lowered myself onto his shaft. Muted moans escaped my gag as his massive tool filled me. Simon lifted me up by the waist and dropped me onto Todd's torso, again and again so that his rigid cock pounded into me. I tossed my head back in abandon, intoxicated by the increasing tempo and escalating pressure. 

Simon caught my hair and whispered to me "While you're fucking him, I am going to fuck you."

The room was loaded with testosterone. It made me high. Todd had a huge cock. It stuffed me completely. As I rose, up and down, riding his cock, Simon bent me forward. He started playing with my anus, first with his fingers, stretching my dark hole wide, and then teasing it with his cock. I hungered for him. Only when he was inside me was I truly his. With one thrust and a grunt I was completely penetrated. He shoved his erection into my back passage. He was boss.

The fullness of cock in my pussy and in my ass-hole was incredible. Now the two men manipulated me, pumping and pushing me, making my head reel as they screwed me hard. Then everything exploded. I could feel Todd shoot his load into my belly as Simon filled my back passage with his semen. Every crevice of my body filled with sex. I was well and truly fucked, and I loved it.

I didn't know I was such a slut until I was re-educated. Now I have everything I ever wanted, and more. Simon takes care of my every want and need. He ensures I'm frequently fucked, even when he's away. I am a graduate of The Finishing School. Those who know, fuck me.

THE END



Just Deserts



As usual on a Friday lunchtime I was in the works canteen chatting to my best pal Stan. We had actually not got very much in common and would not have been natural friends were it not for circumstance. One factor was that we were both employed by the same firm but, he was in the works while I spent my time on the road in the local area as Customer liaison/ Salesman/Trouble shooter - so this was not sufficient basis to form a lasting friendship. 

We also lived diagonally on opposite sides of the same road but where that fact need not have thrown us together the combination of the two connections seemed to have done the trick. To tell the truth, the real reason for the friendship is actually Stan's lovely wife Diane because it was only after I first met her that I began to cultivate him. Now I spend every Saturday afternoon round at his house in front of the box, talking soccer with Stan while feasting my lustful gaze on the delectable Diane. I habitually sit with their newspaper on my lap although I seldom read a word but it is invaluable for concealing my state of arousal throughout the afternoon. 

Diane is small (the correct word is petite) with short black curly hair, flashing brown eyes and a vivacious personality. She is what is usually described as a 'Pocket Venus' with breasts just a trifle too large for her slim frame and the most perfect arse I have ever seen. The reason that Stan was able to pull such a cracker is that when they met and married he was a professional footballer. At the age of twenty he only played in the second team of a low division side and probably would never have amounted to much but Stan maintains that he had potential. That is academic because, when they had only been married for only five months, he suffered a terrible playing accident. The injury was so horrendous that it not only ended his career but made him incapable of even turning out for an amateur side. Despite this Stan still loves the game - hence the Saturday afternoons and my ulterior motive for keeping him company. 

Diane always wore a thong under very tight trousers of a thin material, usually white or some pastel colour and you have got to understand that it made the mouth water just to look at her. In general she always wore figure enhancing very revealing clothes, in contrast to my wife Olivia who was more restrained in her dress sense - apart possibly from Friday nights. On Fridays, Olivia and Diane, together with some other young married women, went night clubbing while Stan and I consoled ourselves down at the local pub. To complete the picture of our situation, I will mention that Diane worked from home using her PC and Olivia was employed by a hosiery firm. My wife's job was similar to mine in that she had to travel round different product outlets but instead of being completely local there were an average of two nights a week when she was unable to get home. Olivia and I had been married for eight years compared to the mere six racked up by our friends but, for various reasons, neither couple had as yet produced offspring. 

I admit to casting an appreciative and thorough glance over every attractive woman I saw (and with Diane it was a case serious lust) but this should not give the impression that I thought little of my wife for the opposite is true. Although my conscience is not completely clear, after eight years of marriage I am as deeply enamoured with her as I was at the start. Olivia is tall for a woman at 5' 8" and her three and a half inch heels bring her to exactly my height, (she has a couple of pairs over an inch higher that she wears on Friday evenings). 

She has a far more classical beauty than Diane, long honey blonde and a slim elegant body. I liked to think of her as being exclusive, using the word with a fashion connotation as well as her relationship to me. She has all the special womanly parts to a pleasing degree but it is her legs that are exceptional. I once overheard a man describe her as having legs right up to her armpits and although an exaggeration this does reflect the impression that she gives. The current trend for women to wear trousers does Olivia no favours at all but she has opportunity to display her prime attribute at work. When we met, Olivia was doing modelling work and for the first two years of the marriage she was occasionally paid to attend exhibitions and pose on the stand of a hosiery firm, wearing the company product. Then the firm decided to employ her full time at the company headquarters, primarily as receptionist but with duties as in-house model. 

After two years of this, the boss of the firm thought the she might have selling ability and decided to train her. So two days every week, he started taking her with him when he visited other cities. After a year he had turned her into a good saleswoman for the company, although I never understand why her training could not be more easily accomplished locally. Olivia took over his two days selling in distant locations and was allocated a local patch for the other three days. At about the same time that she started her training, Stan and Diane bought the house across the road and for the reason described above, I quickly forged a friendship with him. The two women also quickly hit it off and I honestly believe that they are the more genuine friends. We took to socialising in each other's houses on Friday nights. 

After some months Stan and I started popping out for a quick pint to the local pub before returning to our wives and only a week or two later were spending over two hours every time with our elbows propping up the bar. This continued until the night that the two girls struck back by saying that instead of staying behind being neglected while we got blathered at the pub, they were going to start going to a night-club together. I think that they only went that first time to make a point but enjoyed themselves so much that it soon became an established part of the Friday ritual. 

Having, rather laboriously painted a picture of the situation, I can now continue with the story. 

So there I was in the canteen with my pal and more to make conversation than anything else, I asked, "What's up Stan, you're looking pretty glum?" 

"Nothing," he said, putting a second dollop of ketchup on the opposite side of his plate to the first. 

"Come on," I urged. "You've been as miserable as sin for weeks now. Something is bothering you so you might as well spit it out." 

"If you must know, I think that Dane is cheating on me," he said unhappily. 

I could not help laughing. "I don't believe that for a second. What the hell has given you that idea?" Stan always did tend to be paranoid - for instance he had a conspiracy theory to explain why he never got promoted and yet from what I heard he just was not very good at his work. 

"It's true. I wish it wasn't but it is - I've got the evidence." 

"Such as?" 

"Cigarette ends. On two occasions I found tab ends of a brand that Di doesn't smoke in the ashtray. I did ask her who smoked that brand. She seemed a bit flustered and then said that a guy from the firm that employs her had called to talk about new work." 

"That seems very plausible to me." 

"It doesn't explain why there was a tab of the same brand in an ashtray by the side of the bed. 

I didn't mention that one to her though." Stan got a bit confidential and explained, "If she is cheating and thinks that I don't know it will restrict what she is able to do but if she knows that I know and carries on anyway then there will be nothing to stop her." 

"There is almost certainly an innocent explanation for that one as well," I told him. "You really should have asked her." 

"Ever since then the ashtrays are always empty when I get home but it didn't fool me. I rooted around and found that she empties them in the trash bin in the kitchen. Since then I have spotted three different brands of cigarette in there and even a couple of cigar butts. I've also found an empty ashtray in the bedroom and we never take them in there." 

"Is that all?" I asked trying to sound dismissive but my faith was rather shaken." 

"A wet patch in the bed," he said. The first time we had made love the previous night and I assumed that it was from then but when it happened again it had been three days since any sex and I know she had changed the sheets since then." 

"A wet patch?" 

"It was cum - you can't mistake that sticky slightly slimy feel." 

"Anything else?" 

"Yes, he said triumphantly, "I found a gent's watch under my pillow - a real flashy thing. The following night all the furniture had been moved and I knew they had turned the house upside down looking for it. It gave me a lot of satisfaction to know they must have spent the time searching and not screwing. Diane did ask very casually if I had found anything but when I asked, 'Such as?' she just said, 'Oh nothing important'." 

"Have you still got the watch?" 

"No I pawned it. It must have been pretty valuable because I got a hundred quid for it." Stan forced a rueful smile to his face and said, "Diane may be getting fucked but at least I got some beer money out of it." 

Despite my soft spot for his wife, this catalogue did seem rather damning. "What are you going to do about it," I asked - the sober tone of my voice showing that I was taking his allegations seriously. 

"I don't know - I was hoping that you might have some ideas," he said helplessly. 

"I admit that it doesn't look too good but it could be a mistake to jump to conclusions too soon." 

"That is where I hoped you might come in," Stan said eagerly. "I know you're at home for a while every morning and you could easily keep an eye on my house. I'd like you to watch and let me know if you see any men either going in or leaving. I think I might be able to handle it better if I know who the bastard is." Despite reservations I agreed to do as he asked. "Good," he said with real enthusiasm, "We can play this as a game of two halves, you keep watch for at least part of the day and I'll carry on searching the house for clues at night." 

In the pub that evening we did talk some more about his problem and I remember having to constantly reiterate that I would keep my eyes open on his behalf but having sunk a good few pints between us, I can recall little of the conversation. Next day I mentioned Stan's suspicions to my wife. "The silly man - wherever did he get that idea?" she said scathingly, "Diane tells me everything so I would be the first to know if she was up to anything like that." 

I did not mention his 'evidence'. To be honest, the moment I spoke I regretted having betrayed my pal's confidence because I guessed that Olivia would pass on what I had told her at the first opportunity. In addition, I felt that she had rubished the possibility far too quickly and the words ' cover up' had flitted across my mind. 

On Monday morning I messed about and once she had gone I rang my client to delay the arranged visit for a couple of hours. The time thus gained I utilised by updating documentation on my PC. The advantage of this activity was that from my work station I could gaze across the street to Stan and Diane's house. The difficulty in observation was that Stan had put up trellising that extended from the front door to terminate in an arch at the gate and he had trained Clematis and climbing roses to completely swamp the framework. This was almost a burglar's charter because it was it was almost impossible to see beyond it. It was luck more than anything else that caused a slight movement to catch my eye but with my gaze focussed in I could make out a male figure lurking within the arch. He seemed to peer furtively in both directions and then, judging the coast to be clear, he stepped out quickly and walked briskly away down the road. I was staggered because it seemed that Stan was right. 

I hardly slept that night wondering what I should do but one thing was certain, I had to act before my wife had opportunity to speak to the guilty Diane. The next day, as soon as Olivia set off on a one-day trip away, I wandered across the street and knocked on Diane's door. When it opened, she was wearing her usual high-heeled slippers and a short bathrobe with she held closed by clutching it in front. She looked surprised but not unhappy to see me. Inside the house, without wasting time on preliminaries I blurted out, "Stan thinks that you are screwing around and asked me to watch and see if any men visit your house." 

Diane did not twitch a muscle. "And?" she said. 

"I was watching out of my window yesterday morning when I did see a strange male sneaking away." 

As I said that, Diane released the front of her robe and the next moment I found a rosy red nipple pointing at me, then, changing her weight from one foot to the other caused the robe to swing and reveal half of her bush to my avid gaze. By this point I was not looking at her face but I would swear that she was laughing as she asked, "So what are you going to tell Stan?" 

I had to take a big swallow before being able to say, "I don't particularly want to tell Stan anything." 

"In that case, perhaps we should go upstairs to discuss it," Di invited softly. I stumbled after her unable to believe my good fortune - but I fear that a psychologist might fairly easily prove that I had secretly hoped for just such an eventuality. Ahead of me Diane bunched her robe up behind her like a pheasant's tail. Then very slowly, she sassed her way up the stairs, swaying those beautiful naked buttocks before my eager eyes and as she moved, a small tuft of brown hair peeped cheekily between the back of her thighs made me almost cream in my pants before we reached the top step. 

Halfway across the bedroom, Diane sloughed the robe off her shoulders and allowed it drop to the floor. Reaching the bed she turned and let her body tip backwards to fall with legs stiff and held wide apart. On her lower abdomen was the usual triangle of brown pubic hair but the mons itself was covered only by a soft down and this allowed every detail of her sex to be clearly delineated. But this was no time for aesthetic appreciation so I hurled myself forward and thrust my eager tongue between her moist pink inviting cunt lips. The heady intimate aroma and delectable taste was almost overpowering. I could happily have spent an eternity supping that nectar of the Gods but after I had made her cum a mere two times she ruffled my hair and begged, "Fuck me now please." 

It was only these words bringing me back to reality that let me realise that my painfully stiff penis was making its own eagerness known. Almost clumsy in my haste I got rid of my trousers and clambered on top but as I was about to plunge home Diane pushed her hands against my chest to make me pause. Looking straight into my eyes whispered, "This isn't a one way thing Ken - I've wanted you up me for years." 

She then went on to prove it by really fucking me back, her pubis pneumatically grinding against mine. Nor was this simply first time enthusiasm because many times in the future I was to be again impressed by the verve of that versatile vulva. Her orgasms were frequent, loud, obscene and very obviously a whole body experience. I had never before met such a totally sexual creature. After we had gradually slowed to stillness, I was convinced that I had just enjoyed the most fantastic fuck of my life. 

As I lay enjoying that after sex euphoria, the last thing I wanted to think about was her husband but Diane felt the need to point out, "I still love Stan you know and I'll never leave him. The trouble is that he is not very highly sexed and that duff knee of his doesn't help. That's why I need other men because, if I don't get sex every single day, my metabolism starts to suffer." 

"Well, now that you have me you can kick the others into touch," I stated confidently. 

"If you could see me every day, I would get rid of them like a shot but we both know that that isn't feasible," Diane said bluntly. "I want you to fuck me every chance you get but when you can't make it, my pussy will still need keeping happy." 

I was far from pleased to hear this but it was much too early in the relationship for me to start setting conditions so the inevitable jealousy would just have to be handled as best I could. 

I did not feel at all guilty and this was mainly because I had trodden this path earlier in the marriage by indulging in a very enjoyable four-month affair. This had ended quite naturally with no harm done and there was no reason why that precedent should not be repeated. Out of interest, I asked Di if her conscience ever bothered her for cheating on Stan. 

Diane thought for only a moment and then said, "Women never need to feel guilty because there is no reason for it to affect their husbands at all but the same thing doesn't apply to men. When a man fucks a woman during the day most find that either their ability or enthusiasm has diminished by night-time but a woman can screw a lover all afternoon, have loads of orgasms and still be able and eager to do exactly the same with her husband that night. For example, one Friday a couple of months ago, after spending the afternoon doing some really heavy humping, I let myself get poked again in the back of a car, by a chap I picked up at the club that night. Then when I got home, Stan was waiting up for me. Usually he is asleep but this time he was awake and extremely randy for some reason - that was quite a day." 

The news that she had sex with men at the night-club was a shock and it put a further nasty thought into my head but I prefaced the inevitable question by first asking, "How often do you have sex when you are out on Friday nights?" 

"More often than not - in fact a lot more often," she told me without a trace of shame." 

"Does Olivia do the same?" 

"Not that I know of. In all the times I have been there with her I have never known her to go out of the club with a bloke. I do a lot so I can't be 100% certain that she doesn't leave after me but I don't think she does," Diane told me honestly. She paused and then added, "But it's never a good idea to take any woman for granted." 

After we had screwed another twice in quick succession, Diane slipped out of bed saying, "I'm going to get us some refreshment - you stay there and conserve your energy." I lay back with a big smile of self-satisfaction for I ejaculated three times in, what was for me, an amazingly short time period. But, as I lay waiting for her to return, I could not escape the truth of her remark about the limitations of men for I was very glad that Olivia would not be home that night expecting her conjugal rights. When Di came back upstairs her arms were full. Her load included a wine bottle and one glass, cigarettes and ash tray and a different counterpane to throw over the bed. 

The purpose of the last soon became apparent for very little of the wine was consumed from the glass. To start she had me tip wine on to the base of my prick while she knelt in front with her mouth open - to a spectator it must have looked as if I was pissing wine down her throat. Inevitably, a lot splashed over her tits and I was duty bound to lick it off. This could have been a never ending task because, as I licked, she poured more down the valley between her breasts and, pursuing errant rivulets lower, I was soon savouring the combined taste of wine, vaginal juices and semen. 

Despite this appetiser, I was still not ready for a return to the fray so Diane lit up, regretting that I did not smoke as she found sharing a cigarette with a lover to be a very intimate pastime. This remark reminded me of Stan so I warned, "You will have to be more careful because your husband is getting very suspicious and keeps searching around for clues. He mentioned in particular finding a patch of wet cum in bed when he had not made love for you for three days." 




Just Deserts



"Well there is my justification out of his own mouth," Di snapped with some annoyance. "How the hell did he expect my poor cunt to manage without any attention for three whole days. I tell you, if it depended on him my slit would heal up altogether." She simmered for a moment or two then went on more calmly, "For a long time I used to scour the house after a guy had gone to make sure Stan never noticed anything but I have let myself get a little careless. I've been a bit bored lately and Stan is so clinging that it can get rather irritating so perhaps I half hoped that he would find out just to liven things up. I will take more care from now on though." 

"That's another give-away," I said pointing to the ashtray. "And strange brand tab-ends as well, 

"I know, Stan did pull me on the cigarettes but ever since I make sure that every ashtray in the house is empty before he gets home." 

This is where I compounded the betrayal of my friend, "That's not good enough. Stan knows that you tip them in the kitchen waste bin and he checks every night. He's already got a list of three cigarette brands he found which should not have been in the house." At least I never mentioned the watch. 

"The devious shit," Di swore - but she was smiling and seemed impressed by her husband's resourcefulness. 

"Stan also told me about two cigar butts." 

This time Diane laughed out loud. "That was Maurice. Call me Monica if you like but I did enjoy what he did with the cigars getting them ready to smoke - he said it improved the taste. Maurice was a lot of fun but I had to stop him calling. The smoke lingered too long particularly in the bedroom and I was worried that Stan would smell it when he got home." 

It goes without saying that this was the first of many days when I crept across the road to indulge in stupendous, if slightly sordid, sex. The two days per week that my wife packed her overnight bag, I was like a dog straining at the leash and was at Diane's door almost before Olivia's car had exited the end of the road. I very quickly appreciated the flower decked trellising leading to Diane's gate from the illicit lover's point of view because I found it invaluable. From its cover it was possible to view the road from perfect concealment so that it was possible to pick the optimum moment to emerge. It was so useful that I had to remark to Diane how fortuitous the decorative feature had proved in aid of her secret life. 

She giggled. "There's nothing fortuitous about it. I asked Stan to build it because I specifically wanted to get that benefit. When I first started getting a bit on the side I went to motels a lot because I dare not let too many men call at the house with the nosy neighbours we've got round here. Stan did it exactly as I wanted it. The really funny part is that Stan is so proud of his fence, mainly because it's the only time he has ever achieved what he set out to do. He has absolutely no idea it's his hard work that has made it possible for all my lovers to come to the house quite safely." 

One day I asked how long she had been married to Stan before she started cheating. "Nine months," she said without needing even a moment of thought. "After he got his injury he was in hospital for coming up to four months. Even after release he needed treatment and a physiotherapist started to call every Monday, Wednesday and Friday to work on his knee. For a long time this meant Stan lying in bed for an hour with his leg in some kind of traction. The physio, Stu was lovely, very blonde with a crew cut and he always wore a white T-shirt, tight white trousers and a little sleeveless white jacket that showed off his tanned muscular arms." 

Diane smiled recalling the memory as she said, "The first two times he called I took a cup of coffee for both of them after he had got Stan fixed into the contraption and they chatted till the treatment was completed. Up to this time I had been a very good girl but after four months without I was going crazy for it and I thought what a terrible waste. So next time I only took up one mug and told Stu that I had got something for him downstairs. He came down thinking that I was talking about coffee. Just looking at him I had known he would have a fantastic cock and he did." 

Over the next three months we spent some very pleasant hours happily screwing while my husband's leg was being stretched. Even when there was no need for traction Stan still needed massage on his leg and although this could have happened anywhere in the house, Stu insisted that it took place upstairs. Stu still came down for his 'coffee'. We didn't have so long and it was not quite as safe but it took ages for Stan to get downstairs - so with that much warning we still managed some excellent sex. I think that every woman should fuck a physiotherapist at least once because they know so much about the human body. Of course, by the time that Stan got a job and started work, I couldn't manage without my extra rations so I immediately started finding replacements for Stu." 

"With all your gentleman callers, I don't really understand why you need to take a chance messing about on Friday nights." 

"If I dance and snog a guy I get a terrible curiosity to know what he's like where it counts and I do pick up the odd regular from there," Diane told me. "The ones who visit me at home are mostly married men. I prefer them married because sooner or later they develop a conscience and stop calling so it saves me having to pack them in. I do hate dropping a guy when we have had a lot of good fucks together. Anyway a few frantic minutes on a Friday is hardly real sex compared to hours of comfortable screwing in this bed. To play safe, I always make pick-ups wear a condom but it's strictly bareback in this house - I do love to feel spunk spurting up inside me." That was the end of the conversation because I was immediately inspired to give her the sensation that she had expressed a liking for. 

You may wonder how we carried on during the Saturday social afternoons after two days of fabulous sex. The simple answer is that it was interesting. I sat in my usual seat but Diane spent a long time lurking behind but to the right of her husband's chair. From that position she took great pleasure in tormenting me, devising a great many different ways of doing it. I can list squeezing her own breasts, flashing her cleavage, bending down to grin at me through her legs - not to mention lewdly rubbing her crotch with one symbolic finger. Once she even popped a tit out for my delight. Her objective was to force some reaction on my face and more than once she succeeded. On these occasions, Stan's head would whip round to see what I was looking at but all ever found was Diane innocently standing there apparently engrossed in the match. 

In many ways those afternoons were hard because she and I shared many glances that told how we ached for each other. Fortunately several times Diane did manage to engineer chances for us to be briefly together, not for full sex but at least some physical contact. Once she said to me, "We bought a new chest of drawers for the bedroom last Sunday, do you want to come up and see it?" Pretending great interest, I obediently followed her, even though, I had had upwards of six hours opportunity to view the chest during the week and not cast a single glance at it. Another time I happened to mention that I had snapped the handle off my trowel while gardening. This casually remark was enough to cause Di to jump up with the offer, "I think we have a spare trowel down in the shed - do you want to come and look?" 

That small diversion could have turned out rather awkward because the knees of her trousers picked up a lot of dirt from the shed floor. 

Diane seemed to take pleasure in seeing how blatant she dared be in front of her husband but this was not a real challenge because Stan tended to be oblivious. I suspected that if Man United were on the box we could have shagged on the carpet at his feet without him noticing. However, the following incident did rather push the limits and even now I still have to smile whenever I think of it. Unusually, Di was wearing a little short skirt instead of her usual trousers and taking position behind Stan's chair she lifted the front to reveal that she was not wearing panties. From then on she kept repeating the action, thrusting her brown nest provocatively at me or alternatively turning round, flicking up the back and lewdly swivelling her hips. I was steaming and having great trouble preventing this from showing on my face so it was almost a relief when she retired to the kitchen to prepare our snacks. 

After a short while she called to 'Come and get it' and I wandered into the kitchen to see the two trays already waiting on the kitchen table. Before I could move in that direction Di pounced and started scrabbling at my fly, whispering '"I want it inside me if only for a minute." 

Having said that she turned, lifted her skirt and bent forward with legs splayed and hands resting on a kitchen stool. Without hesitation I released my rampant weapon and plunged it home. Unfortunately, all that build up had made me into a one shot wonder because a single thrust was enough to make me explode. Diane reacted and for what seemed an eternity I clasped her tightly as orgasms racked her body and she fought not to make a sound. The moment her spasms died, I pulled out, zipped up, grabbed a tray and hurried back to Stan. 

I was just in time because he was in the process of pulling himself to his feet. "You are going to kick yourself," he said with some satisfaction in his voice. "Beckham just scored while you were in the kitchen - slid in a really sneaky one on the keeper's blind side and you missed it. He's playing away from home so that will count double on aggregate." 

I dashed back to the kitchen struggling not to laugh out loud. Diane was standing where I left her with the fingers of one hand buried in her snatch. As I watched she withdrew her hand and, looking straight at me, slowly licked and sucked each digit in turn. Unbelievably I stiffened again, so to avoid further temptation, I picked up my tray and hastened back to the room. "They've been claiming off-side but the goal stands and that's all that counts at the end of the day," my pal reported. "Becks was actually well off-side according to the replay but all's fair in love and war." 

"Whatever you say Stan, " I said sitting down beside him. 

One day in the canteen, deciding to have some fun at my friend's expense, I said, "Yesterday morning, I caught a glimpse of a male figure disappearing into your gate so I started to keep watch." Stan stopped eating and stared tensely at me but I waited until he said, "AND?" before providing the punch line, "A few seconds later the guy came out again and I realised that it was only the postman." I burst into laughter but it was a moment or two before Stan grasped the fact that I was having him on. I must admit that he saw the joke but his sense of humour was less in evidence when I tried a variation of the gag a couple of weeks later. That time I said, "Shifty kind of character in the street a couple of mornings ago. He kind of sneaked up the street looking all round and then stopped outside your gate." 

"Postman again," Stan nodded, not rising to the bait. 

Looking very serious I said, "No, never seen this guy before. Very big he was and from the way he walked he must have been hung like a horse." The effect on Diane's husband was devastating. He seemed to shrink in his seat and when he asked, "What happened?" his voice was barely a whisper. "Oh yes - he went on to number 43," I told him, as if it had no importance, "The chap who lives there came out and they went off together." 

Stan gave me a reproachful look and said, "If you had any idea how much this is tearing me apart, you wouldn't finding it so funny winding me up." 

Ironically it was the very next day that I so nearly did come unstuck. As I wandered into Stan's house for the usual Saturday football session, Diane removed an item from under some papers and advanced towards me waving it in the air and saying loudly, "Look what you dropped last time you were here. Stan found it down the back of the settee while he was vacuuming this morning" It was my ID card from work. I had indeed lost it the last time that I was there but that happened to be the Thursday morning. During the course of the affair, I had shagged Di all over the house but on the Thursday, unwilling to waste time going upstairs, we had started off on the settee. Glancing at Stan I found him glaring and guessed that Diane had pre-empted his planned interrogation. 

For a moment I was flabbergasted that Di had dared to say what she had but then I realised that she had very cleverly prompted me without seeming to have done so. Catching on I said, "Thank goodness for that, I have been looking for the damn thing all week. If it hadn't turned up I was going to apply for a new one on Monday." Critically, Stan relaxed and smiled - and I lived to ride again. 

How many would not envy me my fabulous loving wife and possibly the sexiest little mistress ever created by god. I know that my good fortune rather went to my head. Both Diane and I subtly teased her husband, sometimes a bit cruelly, but it was not really malicious being prompted by the heady euphoria of our pleasure in each other's body. I felt that the world belonged to me and could see no real reason why it should ever end but one dire Saturday morning, on my way to the shop at the end of the road the sky fell. Leaving my wife in bed sleeping off her night out, I was heading to buy a newspaper when I spotted Diane waving frantically to me from her front gate. With no sense of impending disaster I wandered over, keeping a wary eye open for Stan. "Olivia knows about us," Di hissed as I drew near. 

My heart sank and I mouthed rather than spoke the word 'How?' At close quarters I could see that that the right side of my mistress's face was red and rather puffy. "I'm afraid that I rather spilled the beans last night," she told me looking rather shame-faced. 

"But why, I mean - how?" I asked casting my worried eyes towards the front door rather than at her. I was desperately eager to hear what she had to tell me but half expected her husband to emerge from the house at any minute. 

"It's OK - he's down at the supermarket," Diane reassured me. "I'm afraid that it just slipped out. We were having a good time and O started telling a joke about some guy with a growth on his penis. I was already laughing and without thinking I said, 'You mean a bit like Ken?' Well O stops telling the story, looks at me real hard and asks, 'How the fuck do you know about the wart on Ken's dick?' I had no idea what to say and I wished that the ground would just open and swallow me up. Olivia got very angry. 'You've been shagging my husband haven't you, you slag,' she says. I could not admit it just standing there but I didn't deny either. Instead I said, 'You've no right to call me a slag - and anyway, you've got no room to talk.' That's when she hit me. Punched me right in the eye and I didn't even see it coming. I go down and she stands there saying, 'I'm going to teach that miserable bastard a lesson as well.' Then she left." 

"Oh Christ, the shit is really going to hit the fan when she gets out of bed," I groaned. "I might as well start packing my bags straight away." 

Diane noticeably hesitated and then said, "Look love, if she comes on too heavy with you; ask how she spends her time when you can't keep an eye on her." 

"What do mean? What do you know?" I asked reaching out to grasp Diane's arm. 

Di stepped back pulling her arm clear. "I'm not saying any more - it's up to Olivia to tell you if she wants you to know. I just thought you deserved to have a bit of ammunition of your own. She can be a right cow when she wants to be." 

Despite my pressing, Diane was adamant that my wife should be the one to answer my questions. I was turning away when a sudden whim made me ask, "Why do you always refer to Olivia as O?" 

Diane grinned. "That's what she calls herself when we are out - it's from 'The story of O', if that gives you any clues." 

That cryptic remark left me none the wiser and I returned home very worried about what would happen when Olivia returned to the land of the living. It did help a lot knowing that I had something to throw back at her - even though I had no idea what it was. When she eventually emerged from sleep it was the middle of the afternoon. This gave me plenty of time to remember that it had been 5 a.m. when the sound of the shower woke me shortly before she crept into bed beside me - a good three hours later than her usual return from a girl's night out. I sat tensely with my nerves at breaking point as I finally heard her coming downstairs but Olivia just poked her head round the door and said quite pleasantly, "I'm making myself a coffee, do you want one?" 

Nor was this just the lull before the storm because when my wife carried through the two steaming mugs she said, "I'm afraid that I was a bit late in last night - sorry." I tiptoed around on eggshells for the rest of the day but nothing untoward was said. In bed Olivia quickly let me know that there was nothing doing but on the other hand she didn't push me completely away as was usual when I was in her bad books. Sunday morning I did dip my wick. In fact it was more than just that because we had quite a heavy session and this completed my mystification. I could just about understand that my wife might be prepared to let my dalliance with Diane go without comment but for her to also be affectionately passionate was completely out of character. By that evening my relief at having escaped Armageddon was being replaced by morbid curiosity - what exactly had been Diane been hinting at and had this unknown factor got any bearing on my wife's behaviour. 

Monday Olivia worked at home and I was out seeing customers. That evening was pleasant if uneventful but I did tend to find her studying me with a thoughtful look on her face whenever she thought I wasn't looking. There was no sex that night. On Tuesday morning I went through the motions of preparing for another day of customer visits but the moment that my wife drove off for another two-day stint away from home, I was across the road and knocking on Diane's door. The exciting creature seemed startled to see me but she forced a smile to her face and said, "So you are still alive then?" 

"I can't understand it - she hasn't said a damn thing," I reported. "From the way she is behaving you would think that nothing had happened." 

"That's good, isn't it?" 

"Yes - but it leaves me very unsettled not knowing why." As I spoke I made to move forward into the house." 

"Is this wise?" Diane asked showing reluctance for the first time. 

"Olivia is half way down the motorway by now - anyway, I'm only here to ask some questions." 

"Then you are wasting your time because I haven't changed my mind - ask Olivia if you want to ask anybody but if she hasn't mentioned that she knows about you and me, your best bet is to forget that I ever said anything to you." 

"That's fair enough," I said. "I actually want to ask you about something completely different. Roughly what time was your fight that night and how much later did my wife leave the club?" 

"It was early - definitely not later than eleven thirty and O left less than five minutes later. Why do you want to know?" 

"She did not get home until 5 a.m. and I'm trying to find out how much time is unaccounted for." 

My information had a strange effect on Diane. She bit her lip and stared down at the ground for a few moments, breathing heavily through her nose. But then she looked back into my face and said, "I have done a load of things for a laugh that I am not particularly proud of but that is just not on. OK, I will tell you. Olivia left the club with three Paki's - or should I say Asian gentlemen. They were smart and prosperous looking but before the taxi even pulled away, all three of them were pawing her and leaving no doubt about what they had in mind." 




Just Deserts



The news devastated me. I do not know what I would have done had not Di taken my arm and asked, "Are you going to fuck me then or would you rather stand there all day feeling sorry for yourself?" 

I visited Diane again the next day. During the short periods that we stopped to talk she tried to reassure me about my wife's reaction with permutations of the message, 'Olivia will get over it', 'It's not the end of the world' and 'She's hardly in a position to read the riot act'. Seeing my lover on the third day was impossible because I never knew if my wife would return early or late, and anyway, I had my work to do. Olivia was at home preparing a meal when I returned that evening. On the face of it everything was normal but during this period of waiting I had switched from guilt to aggressive curiosity about what my wife had to hide. While she was clearing the table I murmured tentatively, "We have to talk." 

Olivia just nodded, abandoned her task and walked through to the living room but as I followed, over her shoulder with apparent pleasantness, she asked, "How is Di?" 

"Her eye is rather red and she is generally pretty sore." 

"Mainly with me I bet," Olivia said with a short laugh. "I should not have hit her but I was rather irate. I don't care what else she gets up to but for a woman to screw her best friend's husband is definitely outside the rules. I would never dream of opening my legs for Stan." 

Instead of sitting down immediately she had walked over to the drinks cabinet and I wondered if the fact that she had only prepared a glass for herself had any significance. Finally seated, she leaned forward in a businesslike manner and said, "I take it that Diane blabbed about me?" 

"No she didn't," I said quickly defending Di against this unjust accusation, "She specifically said that I should ask you anything that I wanted to know." 

At this my wife leaned back. "Ask away," she said. 

"You were back unusually late on Friday night and I asked Di if she knew where you had been. She didn't know but said that she thought you had shared a taxi with three males from the Indian sub-continent." 

Olivia smiled. "That was another mistake - I did it for revenge, which is never a good idea. I set out planning to go with them and then give you chapter and verse on what had happened, the next day but by the time I got home I realised that I had overreacted. To tell you the truth I was rather ashamed of myself. I know Diane has been crazy about you for ages so that makes what she did with you almost excusable - I've never fancied Stan one little bit and that's the difference." 

"And what made you so late," I prompted. 

She shook her head. "You don't want to know." 

"But I do," I persisted. 

Olivia shrugged her shoulders with a resigned look on her face. "OK. I have read the Kama Sutra but all the Lingam this and Yoni that and calling a fuck 'congress' rather put me off but that trio knew the book backwards. They certainly had all the positions off pat. The straight sex wasn't too bad but there was a lot I didn't care for. For instance, all the curry and spices that they eat causes a body odour that gets worse when they sweat. Well there was certainly a lot of sweating and it got rather overpowering. Between the three of them they certainly didn't give me a minute from start to finish and there was a load of other stuff that I'm not even going to tell you about - so you will have to use your imagination." 

"What kind of 'other stuff'?" 

"Come on Ken - they are from a completely different culture - think about it." 

I was devastated. I have read stories of wives going with black men and found that rather erotic but this seemed a completely different matter. It may be racial but I think it was more there being three of them and it being fact rather than fiction that made the difference. "What do you get up to on other Friday nights?" I asked more to change the subject than an urgent need to know. 

"Not a lot - only the merest fraction of what your sluttish little mistress has indulged in. During the three years I have been going out with her I have only twice let myself get laid by a pickup. There is always snogging and a lot of groping and I have sucked a few cocks but most guys there are quite happy with a hand job. What happened last Friday was quite out of character for me." 

So there were two more men to add to the tally and a lot of other unspecified sexual activity as well but from the expectant way my wife was sitting I got the impression that she had not yet cleared her conscience. "Is that the lot?" I asked. 

"There is more," Olivia admitted, "- but wouldn't you rather just settle for the fact that I have been unfaithful to you and you have been unfaithful to me? Anything I tell you can only make you even more unhappy." 

"Nothing could be as bad I what I have just heard," I told her bitterly. 

"I don't know about that," my wife shook her head doubtfully. There was a long pause as she gave me chance to change my mind but then she said bluntly, "For the four years that I have been on the road there are only two or three occasions that I have finished up in bed alone." 

I did a rapid calculation, four years at twice per week - the magnitude overwhelmed me. It was like being punched hard in the solar plexus. "Why?" I managed to gasp. 

"You should know as well as I do Ken. Think back four years." 

"What happened four years ago?" 

"Claire Steward happened." 

'Claire' was the name of my earlier amour. "I didn't know that you knew," I said. 

"You were always sneaking out in the garden to use your mobile," Olivia explained." It was pretty obvious something was going on, so one morning I got up early and managed to read through your text messages - there should be a law against transmitting obscene material like that. I was very angry and nearly walked out on the spot but then I thought 'Don't get mad - get even'. As it happened, my boss Craig had been trying to get into my pants for ages so you made it easy for me to let him. We screwed a couple of times in motels and then he started taking me with him on the road but that was only so we could fuck. He told people that he was training me but the only training I got was on my back. That's actually a bit unfair because I did pick up a lot about the job. Soon he did half the calls while I handled the rest and this gave us a lot more time for shagging." 

"You have been having an affair for four years?" I interrupted. 

"No. After a year, Craig's wife got suspicious and clipped his wings by insisting that he spent every night with her. He still pokes me occasionally in his office but that was really the end of it. So that left me going out alone and I hated it because it was so bloody boring on my own at night. But then it struck me that every hotel in the world is full of lonely men and I haven't looked back since." 

A modified calculation showed that she could have still had three hundred different cocks up her - if I thought about that too much, I could go crazy. It struck me that had I not still loved her so much the pain would have been less and with this thought came the realisation that, despite all Olivia had told me, I did not want to lose her. On the spur of the moment, I took a brave decision and said, "Don't tell me any more. I forgive you everything - if you can forgive me for Diane then we can forget everything, just live for each other and stay faithful from now on." 

There was a sad smile on my wife's face as she said, "Sorry darling, I enjoy my life far too much, exactly as it is, to ever think of giving it up. You have nothing to be ashamed of in that department Ken but the truth is that I have picked up a taste for far bigger cocks than yours. It was Craig that started it because he's got a real whopper. Nowadays I am very particular about who I care to fornicate with. If a guy comes on to me in a hotel bar I asked him straight out, 'What have you got to offer?' They immediately think I am a hooker, get all confused and mutter that they had not realised. So I laugh and say that I am talking inches not cash. The strange thing is that when they don't measure up, most accept the rejection quite philosophically." 

Olivia had told this last bit as if it was funny but I found it hard to be amused. "Cheer up," she said. "You may get consolation from knowing that I don't often let myself get picked up these days. You see I've got roughly a dozen regulars, all with just what I need between their legs. The bonus is that most of the time I go to their place and save myself money on hotel bills. It's a perfect situation so you can understand why I am loath to give it up." 

"What exactly are you suggesting?" I asked unhappily, very afraid that I already knew. 

"Simple - we just carry on as we did last week, last month. You keep on poking Diane and I continue to get amusement from my selection of studs. The only thing that has changed is that I now know about your little naughty and you know about mine. I still love you and I still enjoy having sex with you but as long as I get my weekly ration of flesh on the road I don't particularly care how many cunts you dip your dick into." 

My wife had very obviously decided and I had very little choice in the matter. I lay awake for hours that night and it was the only the thought that I might still be able to find my way between Diane's warm thighs that stopped me being suicidal. The next day at lunchtime, in the works canteen I walked as usual to where Stan was already seated at a table but the moment that I approached he tried to lunge at me shouting, "You fucking bastard - it was you shagging Di all the time." 

Fortunately for me his bad leg gave way and he fell back banging his elbows badly on the table. "I don't know what you are talking about. Where the fuck did you get an idea like that you stupid cunt?" I yelled back and my guise of righteous anger checked him. 

"I just found out about the fight," he said in a more reasonable voice. "Di won't tell me what it was about but I guessed. The only possible reason I can see for Olivia hitting her is that she must have found out that you and Di were doing it." 

The way I was feeling I could easily have just turned and walked out but I decided it was worth an attempt to placate my friend. "You dozy twat," I said with pretended affection, "You were so fixated on mystery men sneaking into your house during the day that you never gave a thought to Friday nights. If you must know I had a flaming row with Olivia last night because she more or less admitted to mucking about with other men at the night-club at least some of the time. If she's at it then I wouldn't mind betting that Diane is too. I couldn't find out what the fight was about either but, reading between the lines, I am pretty certain that they both wanted to go with the same guy." 

It was not a very worthy effort but it seemed to do the trick by eliciting a half apology. All that I now had to do was make contact with Di during the afternoon and tell her to claim innocence and put all the blame onto Olivia. If I could only smooth this over there was a chance my affair might still continue. We chatted some more until I judged him to have relaxed and then asked, "Are we still on for a pint tonight?" 

"I'm giving up beer for a while - got to keep a clear head," he said, "Anyway, I'm damned if I'm going to let Di go to that brothel ever again." 

I stood up. "What about football tomorrow?" 

Stan looked up with the anger back in his eyes. "I don't want you anywhere near my wife - you may have talked your way out of it now Ken but I'm suddenly remembering a lot of little things that didn't make sense at the time." 

Excluded from my lover and knowing that my beautiful wife intended to continue getting pronged by a string of oversized paramours caused my stomach to cramp in bitter pain. It was to get worse in the future - much worse.



Just Deserts Ch. 02



(Yes I know the difference between desert and dessert, again)

*Fire and water are opposites but together they build islands*

(Chelsea and Kyle)

Kyle had driven them to one of the nicest places on the lake front. Chelsea kept looking quizzically at Kyle then back again wondered how far they were going. Finally they pulled up a gravel driveway and headed off into the forest and she became really curious.

"Nice place," Chelsea joked.

"Dad's a real outdoorsman and he likes the rustic feel," Kyle answered. Only when they came around a corner of woods and rocks did Chelsea see the 'lodge'.

"How much of that is yours?" Chelsea wondered.

"All of it; didn't I tell you he was big in real estate," Kyle said. Chelsea was almost speechless.

"Oh, does this place have a staff," she weakly joked. "This place seems awful big for the two of us."

"Well, that is sort of what I wanted to talk to you about. My family is here for the weekend," Kyle admitted.

"Family?" gasped Chelsea.

"Yeah; Mom knows all about you – us. Dad thinks you're a PA at an insurance office. He's a bit of a snob so I didn't want to put you on the spot this early with us."

"Kyle, it is your fucking family! Don't you think you should have asked me about this instead of springing this on me?" Chelsea rounded on him angrily.

"I was afraid if you knew you would say no," he said softly.

"The hell Yes I would have said No, Kyle. It is your damn family and they are rich and I'm not and they are going to think I'm some sort of whore. Damn it, this is a stupid idea," Chelsea shouted.

"Trust me Chelsea, you'll do fine. If you impress them as much as you've impressed me, you will do fine."

"Kyle, they are all going to think I'm your fuck-bunny," Chelsea groused.

"You and I know differently Chelsea. The rest doesn't matter," Kyle responded.

"And if your dad tells you to dump me; what then?" Chelsea accused him.

"I do fine on my own, that's what," Kyle shot back. "Chelsea how often how do I have to tell you that mean the world to me? I wouldn't ask you to do anything I didn't believe you can do." 

"Well, I guess it is too late, but if you think you are getting anything tonight you are so mistaken," Chelsea grumbled.

"Well, that sucks," Kyle confessed. "Does this mean an afternoon session is out of the question?"

"Don't press it," Chelsea snapped. "I will hurt you." They passed the last moments in silence. When they got there Kyle got their baggage out, Chelsea insisted taking her own, and he led her indoors.

"Kyle," called out a short, slender woman with a few streaks of grey in her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. "Chelsea," she added. She hugged each one in turn which kind of freaked Chelsea out.

"Kyle, go out and see your Father, Tony, and Dorothy," the lady said. "Hi Chelsea, I'm Ellie. Why don't you help me get some drinks?" Kyle stole Chelsea a look but Ellie shooed him away.

"Chelsea, you are very lovely. Let's get some gin and tonics and whisky sours for the others. Kyle's Father is Simon, his older sister is Dorothy, and her fiancé is Tony," Ellie grinned.

"I'm Chelsea and there is just me," Chelsea shrugged.

"Kyle says you have a good friend called Rose," Ellie commented.

"Oh, what else has he said about me?" Chelsea hazard to say.

"He says you and your friend are exotic dancers, you are quite good, and that he's pretty crazy about you," Ellie smiled.

"He says that does he?" Chelsea said curiously.

"Well, I made up the 'crazy about you' part, but you should see the way he talks to me about you. It is good to see him interested in a girl once again," Ellie answered.

"Um ... it does seem to have been a while since he took a girl out," Chelsea grinned.

"Oh, he hasn't been out on more than two dates with a girl since his senior in high school," Ellie informed her.

"They break up went they went to college," Chelsea guessed. Ellie bit her lip.

"They had dated since the tenth grad and right before senior prom she died in an auto-wreck. Sarah was driving; Kyle was thrown clear of the accident and only got a few scratches. He held her while she died. I imagine he should have been the one to tell you about that, but I wanted to know that he really likes you so that means I really like you too."

"Umm ... thanks," Chelsea murmured. This was clearly a lot to digest but it explained a great deal about Kyle. Like her he was a damaged. It also explained why he knew so little about women but was as good looking as he was. The thing was his mother was really happy to see her and career be damned. She'd never thought about what it was to make another person happy. 

It also made her wonder about Rose and what she might mean to Rose, and Rose to her. Ellie handed her one small tray while she took another. The fact that she was serving drinks at her new ... boyfriend's place was not lost on her. Kyle's Father came across as a hard-ass, a stockier version of Kyle. His Sister was school and looked like Ellie but with Kyle's lighter coloring. Tony looked ... well ... kind of sleazy, but then he turned out to be an entertainment agent and one who couldn't keep his eyes to himself.

Chelsea was able to deflect questions about her career with a bit of judicious help from Kyle and Ellie. The Father made little comments about Chelsea's breast size and that was something that Kyle took personally. The two men locked horns and everyone grew silent. Ellie finally intervened but Chelsea swore she saw a smile on the old man's face as Chelsea led Kyle away.

After dinner Chelsea commented on it to Ellie, not wanting to cause friction.

"Oh, Simon is always pushing Kyle. It is good to see my son fight back for a change," Ellie smiled.

"I don't want to be stepping into the middle of anything," Chelsea said.

"Well, if you like Kyle, you need to get used to dealing with Simon. My husband is difficult, but he's basically a decent man. More to the issue, I think Kyle is a good man. I think you will find him worth your time," Ellie suggested.

"I'll certainly give it some thought. I'm less angry with him now than I was when I got here," Chelsea offered.

"Huh?"

"Oh, Kyle sort of failed to mention I was meeting his family until we were in the driveway," Chelsea informed her. Ellie face-palmed and groaned.

"Really, I guarantee he is normally smarter than that," Ellie grinned weakly. Chelsea giggled.

"Oh, that would explain you two having separate rooms?" Ellie inquired.

"Yes, but I'm thinking about forgiving him," Chelsea allowed.

"Well Chelsea, whatever makes you happy, but if you ask me he deserves a night alone for what he pulled today," Kyle's mother said. Chelsea decided she liked Ellie right then. Of course, if she kept Kyle's father in line, she probably needed some vigor and backbone and that was worth its weight in gold.

(Morning)

Chelsea took a perverse pleasure in crawling into bed and hovering over Kyle when he woke up. His eyes went from her eyes to down to her dangling cleavage.

"Whoa," he mumbled coming to wakefulness.

"Good morning, Kyle," Chelsea purred.

"What have I done wrong?" he asked.

"What makes you think you've done something wrong?" she smiled.

"So I've done something right?" Kyle said hopefully.

"No, I'm still pissed with you for deceiving me to come out here, so I've decided to torture you before putting on my tank top and short shorts before everyone else sees it," she grinned evilly, "but I want you to remember me just like this ... hovering over you ... in your bed."

"I apologize," Kyle offered cautiously. Chelsea turned around and wiggled her ass in his face before looking over her shoulder at his agonized soul and giggling.

"Maybe ... around midday I'll consider it," she snickered at him. Kyle pulled the spare pillow over his face and groaned.

For Chelsea it was something she never experienced before. Sure exuding sensuality while denying sex was her job, but to do it on a personal level was exciting. She could taunt Kyle and still be sure he would be there – a repeat customer with benefits. Only when she got downstairs to help with breakfast did it occur to her that her idea of breakfast attire was a little less than everyone else expected?

It was soon clear that Dorothy had developed a sudden dislike for her. Even Ellie seemed a bit surprised. Tony was leering and even Simon was peeking at her goodies. At least Kyle came down and cuddled right up to her.

"So, surprised to see you two up so early," winked Tony to both Kyle and Chelsea. Chelsea felt embarrassed for Kyle but Kyle took it in a non-plus manner.

"Oh, Chelsea and I don't share the same bedroom Tony. We aren't engaged after all," he said before sipping his coffee. He didn't even bother to meet Tony's gaze but Chelsea resisted the impulse to hug him to her.

"Yes," Ellie added, "they have only started dating a month ago."

No one said anything for the longest time then,

"Sorry we had the wrong impression of you, Chelsea," Dorothy apologized.

"No problem Dorothy," Chelsea responded. She didn't bother asking what Dorothy thought she was before apologizing. 

What Dorothy thought of her wasn't helped by the bathing suit Chelsea chose to wear. It was meant to excite Kyle but it had that effect on all the men there. She found herself talking with Ellie and Dorothy a lot which made her feel a bit out of her element. They talked about people she didn't know, but Ellie reminded her of who they were. What soon occurred to her was the people she mentioned she did know – professionally.

It was stunning how many men 'stepped out' on their wives on a regular basis. That these were regular men with normal professions, wives, and children weren't something she'd ever bothered with, but this was the other side of their lives. It became a game between her and Ellie when talking about men she 'knew'; something Dorothy was kept in the dark about. Again she found herself becoming closer with Ellie.

After lunch Simon and Tony went boating on the lake. Kyle would have gone along but Chelsea flagged him down before he joined them. Ellie and Dorothy went to the store for some last minute stuff for the evening's cook out, leaving them alone in the house. Kyle approached Chelsea on the deck and wrapped her in an embrace from behind. Chelsea wiggled her butt against him.

"Something on your mind?" she asked.

"You've been driving me crazy since this morning and I was wondering how much longer I will have to suffer."

"What says you are going to get anything this weekend?" she taunted. He tightened his hug about her.

"You are right; I shouldn't expect anything from you. It is just that you are driving me crazy with your expert teasing and your fantastic body. I can't help what I wish for," he confessed. Chelsea reached back and stroked his head behind her.

"So you are good for being sexless all weekend?" she asked. He kissed her on the neck.

"Of course, Chelsea," he murmured as he kissed her neck again and again. She titled her head to give him greater access. When he found that special spot, she held his head there.

"Maybe tonight," she suggested.

"Whatever you want," he said. They were still holding each other on the deck when the others returned.

(Sunday)

Chelsea sat back in the car, window open and the morning wind in her hair. Sure she and Kyle hadn't had sex, but they had slept in the same bed together and she felt as safe as she did with Rose. Ellie had turned out to be a kind of friend she'd never had before. They'd even agreed to meet up later in the week. She'd even started becoming comfortable calling him her boyfriend.

Rose met them with some anticipation. She ushered Kyle out of Chelsea and Roses' place as quickly as possible then turned on Chelsea.

"Okay, something weird happened. What was it?" Rose inquired.

"Oh ... we went to his family lake house," Chelsea began.

"Okay, we knew that it wasn't his – so?" Rose persisted.

"His family was there," Chelsea positively beamed.

"OH crap," Rose gasped.

"Oh no, I had a blast. His mom was great," Chelsea grinned.

"How much did you have to put out?" Rose griped.

"Not one time, and I tortured him all weekend for it too," Chelsea's eyes glowed.

"How did they treat you?" Rose wondered.

"His dad is a bit of an ass, and his sister is stuck up, but his mom is wonderful. Dorothy has this fiancé who kind of sucks. He's a real grabby-hand so I had to keep us from being alone, but it was worth it," Chelsea smiled.

"Do you really want to be part of that lifestyle?" Rose said negatively. "You know what those guys are like at the club."

"Rose, do you think Kyle is like that?" Chelsea asked honestly. Rose had to hesitate. Despite her desire to dislike him, the guy seemed to be trying. Worse, he made Chelsea happy.

"No," Rose admitted.

"That is good because do you know what I was taught this weekend? I take you for granted Rose and that's been bad of me. Being with Kyle has reminded me how much I love you Rose."

Rose stood still for a long moment.

"I really like you," Rose finally responded.

"No Rose, I love you. Not only have you always been there for me, I want you in my life. I'd never thought about it really. Do you feel the same way?" Rose stared back at the woman that was familiar yet strangely different.

"Yes Chelsea, I love you," Rose confessed. She stepped up into Chelsea's welcoming embrace. After kissing and pressing up against each other for what seemed like forever,

"What about Kyle?" Rose asked Chelsea. The other woman sighed and looked down.

"I love him too," Chelsea admitted. Rose hugged her tighter.

"Chelsea, sometimes you have a way of weirding out the moment," Rose said as she kissed Chelsea's head.

"Sorry?" Chelsea whispered.

"Somehow if you didn't confuse me it wouldn't be you," Rose joked.

"Sorry?" Chelsea repeated.

"Promise me one thing Chelsea," Rose asked.

"What is it?" worried Chelsea.

"You have to tell him about ... what happened," Rose insisted. Chelsea flinched.

"Why?" Chelsea whispered.

"Chelsea, it is something that he needs to deal with and you need to deal with him," Rose explained.

"Oh God Rose, what if he freaks. Friday I could have dealt with that, but today ... it was such a good time," Chelsea moaned.

"Chelsea, if you think he loves you then he will understand and if he doesn't then he's not worth keeping," Rose suggested. It hurt but Chelsea nodded. She hadn't thought about losing a guy in ten years and now she felt raw and vulnerable.

"Rose, what if I do if he walks away?" she said softly.

"I'll kick his ass," Rose promised.

(Chelsea, Kyle, and Rose)

Kyle looked at the two women with a smile. He knew that he and Rose had been having some issues and he expected the reason, but they both liked Chelsea so everything else didn't matter. He sat down and immediately felt some worry. Chelsea wasn't looking at him.

"What's up?" Kyle began.

"We have something we need to talk to you about," Rose said. She nudged Chelsea. Rose had wanted this moment of decision, she hadn't but she felt trapped between Kyle and Rose.

"Kyle ... I was raped," Chelsea said sadly. Kyle responded by reaching across the table for her hand which was in her lap. It wasn't what she had expected. Chelsea reached her hand up and took his. Even Rose took a deep breath of relief. Chelsea's heart was on the line.

"What happened, if you feel you can talk about it?" Kyle asked. Chelsea gulped. After several seconds Rose intervened.

"There was this guy and he 'sold' Chelsea to eight guys for an evening."

"Who?" Kyle said with a sudden intensity that startled Rose.

"Why does it matter?" Chelsea muttered.

"You are right," Kyle responded in a rapid change of direction. "What can I do for you?" Chelsea squeezed his hand.

"Kyle, your mom told me about you and Sarah," Chelsea said hopefully. "I was hoping you would understand."

"Oh, I understand alright," Kyle promised her. He held onto her hand and met her gaze evenly. They ate for a few minutes in silence. When Chelsea went to the bathroom, Rose grabbed Kyle's arm.

"What's your game?" she hissed.

"Someone hurt the woman I love. I lost one woman I loved; I'm not going to lose another," he replied with frank honesty.

"What does that mean?" Rose asked.

"Someone hurt her and if there wasn't a chance that he might hurt her again someday, we wouldn't be having this conversation," he answered. Rose had to see some logic to his statement. The bigger thing in her mind was that someone like Kyle was deadly serious. He'd never let anyone hurt Chelsea and if they had hurt her there would be hell to pay.

"Give me a few days to think about this and maybe – maybe – I'll help, but this has to be what is best for Chelsea; not you and not me," Rose informed him. Kyle nodded. Rose wasn't sure what to make of him now. He'd seemed so ... soft and pampered but she had to ask Chelsea about this Sarah. There was something more to this young man. 

Only after they were on the drive back did Rose turn to Chelsea and ask her.

"What's with this Sarah?" Rose asked.

"I don't know if I should talk about it," Chelsea evaded. Rose stared at her. "She was his high school girlfriend. They were in love and right before they graduated they were in a horrible accident. She died and he lived and even though it wasn't his fault he's been grieving for her all these years – until he met me. Corny huh?"

"Do you think Kyle loves you?" Rose persisted.

"Yes, after today I'm pretty sure he does. He didn't hate me or anything," Chelsea answered.

"No one deserves to hate you Chelsea," Rose responded angrily. "You did nothing wrong."

"I cared for the wrong guy," Chelsea sighed.

"Do you think Kyle would do anything for you?" Rose asked.

"I don't know. Why do you ask?" Chelsea inquired.

"No reason; I was only asking," Rose said thoughtfully. Chelsea thought that was odd, but it had been a stressful day.

(Three days later – Kyle and Rose)

Rose came by Kyle's office which earned her a few looks. Clearly she wasn't his normal kind of client. Kyle hadn't been in the office, something that Rose should have thought about, but he immediately agreed to meet her the moment his assistant was convinced to call him. When he picked her up she asked drive out with him to the desert.

When they reached a deserted dirt road he pulled over and looked out over the arid landscape.

"What is this about?" he asked cautiously.

"I ... I want to be part of this and if I call it off, it ends, promise me," Rose told him intensely.

"What am I agreeing to? I can't agree to something without knowing something about it," Kyle countered.

"It has to do with Chelsea," she answered almost as a test of sorts.

"Okay," he agreed. He really was crazy about her.

"All I have is two names: Rodney and Tamara from ten years ago," Rose volunteered.

"Anything else at all?" he thought.

"Umm, he picks up impressionable girls straight off the bus and sells them to their buddies to fuck"

"Buddies? Any hope on names with them?" Kyle wondered.

"Well, there was this guy who came in a few days ago. The night you came over and stayed with her she nearly killed one of those buddies, which is the only reason I'm talking to you now. I don't want her doing something stupid," Rose responded.

"I'll let you know what I find out. I know some good investigators in my line of work. If nothing else they will know some criminal investigators and if there is something to be found out, I'll do what it takes," he promised Rose.

"I know you will Kyle. I'm sorry we haven't always gotten along," Rose confessed.

"We love the same woman Rose. There are going to be problems but we are putting the right person first," he answered.




Just Deserts Ch. 02



"She can never know," Rose insisted.

"For what I plan to do to this guy, the fewer people who know the better," Kyle growled. Rose nodded. Kyle had impressed her with his intensity. Kyle was impressed with Rose's own fierce devotion to her friend.

(Three Weeks Later)

Chelsea rolled over and looked down from her elbow at the sleeping Kyle. It was a strange feeling to feel this way about a guy. She had done this a few times with Rose, but there had always been the taint of betrayal by men in general. Kyle slept easily at her side, trusting her even when she wasn't sure about him.

He was attractive, young, and vibrant though she was sure he wouldn't understand that in his current state. Kyle was the first man she had sex with more than once since Rodney. He was also the first man who had let her stay the night without wanting sex in the morning. He wanted to hold her and nestle with her in a way that made her feel whole. He wanted her, inside and out.

Chelsea went to sleep in his arms but woke up alone with the smell of coffee and microwaved bacon. She found her blouse, put it on, and sleepily found her way to his kitchen. Kyle was already up and dressed in a nice shirt, slacks and tie. The coughed when she walked in to get his attention. He gave her a confused then appreciative grin.

"Coffee? I've got orange juice and I've made you some bacon and grilled cheese the way you like it," he offered. Chelsea stumbled into the kitchen, bumped against him then took the coffee he handed her.

"Coffee is what I need," she murmured. "Do you have to get to work?"

"Yes, I've got a big meeting with some contractors this morning," he sighed.

"Are you sure I can't convince you to stay," Chelsea said taking a provocative stance that barely allowed her shirt to cover her most private of places. Kyle blinked once then began undoing her tie. Chelsea laughed.

"Just kidding Tiger," she motioned to him. "I only wanted to know if you had grown tired of me, which clearly you haven't." Kyle looked suitably heartbroken which only made Chelsea's heart grow fonder. Kyle came up to her and wrapped his hands around her waist.

"Never," he whispered to her.

"I won't get off tonight until two," she sighed back to him.

"How about we grab a coffee afterwards?" he asked.

"Sure, you can tell me about your day and I'll tell you about my day with your mom," she grinned. Kyle muttered something about meddling women under his breath. Chelsea laughed again.

"Well," Kyle admitted, "I have to go. Lock up when you leave." He kissed her on the lips; she returned it with more passion. After he was gone Chelsea took a seat in 'his' chair and curled up with a plate of toast, bacon and her coffee on the armrest. She sat back, cut the TV then looked around. Kyle had given her a key to his place the second time she'd spent the night so she could sleep late.

Chelsea finished up and took her time walking around the house. It wasn't huge, but it was nice. More to the point it was a place she shared with another human being. It felt like a home away from home. It felt so much like home she found herself lying back on the bed. She touched herself and slowly rubbed around. She rolled over and brought his pillow up to her nose and breathed in deep.

She imagined his fingers touching her and his tongue tickling her where she liked it. Her other hand reached inside her shirt and began to roll one of her nipple around. 

"Kyle," she panted as she came close. He wasn't the best lover, but he was learning to know what she liked and more to the point, he was eager for her body without being demanding. If she didn't know herself better she might think she was in love.

(Evening)

Chelsea was surprised to be told that her 'boyfriend' was in the crowd that evening. Better yet, he had brought four other customers for the girls to enjoy fleecing. Chelsea was kind of pleased the he politely deferred them with the words that he was here for Chelsea. His companions teased him about it until they actually saw Chelsea, then they teased him for a totally different reason.

Chelsea didn't waste any time of making a b-line for Kyle.

"Lap dance for you Mister?" Chelsea teased.

"Can I touch you?"

"Only as much as I allow," she answered.

"You always keep me in line," Kyle smiled up at her. Kyle was a good boy, keeping her attention on him for the entire time she was on the floor. Only when she went for her next costume change for on stage did he have another girl over and that was Rose.

"Hey," Rose smiled to Kyle. "It is good to see you here." It was good to see that he'd pay for her time as well.

"Actually, can I talk to you in a secluded place," Kyle said quietly. Rose studied him a moment then nodded. They got a few cat-calls as Rose led him off. When they got to a singles room she looked at him curiously. Rose would be highly disappointed if he chose this moment to make a pass at her.

"I found something out," Kyle told her. Rose eyes narrowed in anticipation. "I found Rodney. It also turns that Chelsea – Tamara wasn't the only girl he treated like that. I was able to find four of them. One tried to commit suicide and one is a drug addict, but the other two live in the area. I haven't made contact with any of them. I wanted your advice."

Rose thought that over. She hoped for more time to figure out what to do about Rodney, but Kyle had busted his hump, and undoubtedly some other people's hump, to find this stuff out.

"Is he with someone now?" she asked.

"Yes," Kyle told her.

"I need to think about this. Promise me you won't do anything until you hear from me," Rose told him.

"I already did Rose, but I'll promise you again," Kyle swore.

"Give me a day or two and I'll give you an answer," Rose sighed. She gave Kyle an appreciative look. She pushed him into the padded seat and straddled his lap.

"Huh?" Kyle wondered.

"Well, you are paying for an exclusive dance and I wouldn't want people to think I was cheating you," she grinned as she began to give him her best gyrations. Rose decided Chelsea was right about something; he looked utterly adorable when he was caught between excitement and shyness.

When she got him good and riled up, grinding her ass into his incredibly hard hard-on, she pressed back against him put his hands on her breasts and panted,

"How would you like a three-way?"

"What?" Kyle gasped. "Really I hadn't thought about it. Okay, I kinda of never thought about it."

"Seriously," she asked, studying him.

"I thought you disliked me," Kyle admitted.

"What if Chelsea asked you to?" she teased.

"Well I guess I would," he agreed.

"Am I really that hideous," Rose asked seductively.

"Hell no Rose, but would either of us cheat on Chelsea?" he countered.

"No but would you date me if Chelsea wasn't around?" Rose inquired.

"I don't know Rose. You know I'm not dating Chelsea because she is an exotic dancer. Maybe if we dated a bit we could build something," 

"That is the nicest 'not likely' anyone has ever told me," Rose chuckled as she continued her dance. "In fact, since I got my boob job, you are the only guy who has said 'no'."

"Can I see?" Kyle asked innocently. Rose stole him a curious glance but she turned around and undid her top. He put gentle pressure on her back he brought Rose forward.

As her breasts came closer he took one in his mouth and moved his mouth and tongue in a uniquely skilled technique.

"Mmmm, Chelsea has trained you well," Rose noted. He mumbled something but kept at it. He kept at it for some time going from breast to breast all the while running his hands from mid-back to the top of her ass. After several minutes he broke from his suckling and looked up.

"Friends?" he queried.

"If you do that for her, hell yes we are friends," she smiled down at him.

"Should we get back now?" he asked softly.

"We'd better before one of us forgets themselves," she sighed. 

Rose got off his lap and pulled him up. Suddenly she had a real kinship with this man and not because of what he'd done but because he was willing to do it to make her happy. She took him back to the main floor in time to see Chelsea's act finish. She gives Rose and Kyle a wink when she saw them. She joined them when she came back around at the bar. 

Kyle paid for the overpriced drinks that allowed him to spend time with them legitimately. 

"So, what were my two favorite people up to?" Chelsea teased.

"I was giving him a private dance," Rose taunted back. "He was quite creative and grateful."

Kyle nearly spewed but Rose and Chelsea laughed. Chelsea rubbed Kyle's thigh.

"It is an old tradition here to scoop up another girl's guy to get their blood pressure up," Chelsea said. "Nothing happened," she cautioned, "Right?"

"Unless you mean did I grab her ass and suck on her magnificent tits then nothing happened," Kyle gulped. Chelsea looked at Kyle suspiciously then smacked Rose in the arm.

"Oh, you were mean," she grumbled to Rose. "Poor Kyle, are you okay?" she added in a sympathetic tone.

"Well," giggled Rose, "you told me that we should learn to get along. How was I to know that didn't include a titty-snuggle?"

"Chelsea, don't lay all the blame on Rose. I could have left but I chose to stay. What can I say; she made an offer I could refuse," Kyle admitted. To emphasize the point Rose pushed her bosom together and offered them to Chelsea.

"Fine," Chelsea declared with a wicked grin, "you both were wrong and I'll get both of you." 

Kyle looked to Rose who stole a glance back.

"Is this a bad thing?" he inquired.

"I'm expecting to go home and get a severe tongue-lashing," Rose grinned innocently.

"Oh, neither one of you are getting anything," Chelsea announced.

"Ouch!" groaned Rose.

"It is all her fault," Kyle blamed Rose with desperate hope. Rose punched him. Chelsea flounced off looking terribly sexy.

"You are really starting to grow on me Kyle," Rose commented before she headed backstage leaving him even more confused. Which part of their relationship was she talking about?

(Seven Days Later)

It had taken Rose only one day to think it over. While she waited she knew that some other girl was one day away from going through what Chelsea went through. The next few days involved them hunting down the four girls on the list. Rose knew about the nightmares and felt some longing to bring peace to minds Rodney had touched in the same way he'd damaged her love.

The conversations went something like Beverly's;

"Hey, do you two want me to play a double," the young prostitute asked them. Rose negotiated a price and they went up to a decent motel bedroom. Bev looked around, pleased with her environment. Undoubtedly her clients had some money, so maybe this was all she had to work tonight.

"How do you want it?" Bev inquired. The guy looked kind of green, but the woman looked professional. Maybe that could work in her favor – a little woman on woman sympathy. The woman doled out the agreed upon money and sat on the bed.

"We want to talk," the man responded. Bev groaned inwardly; she had known this was too good to be true.

"Cops?" she sighed.

"Hell no," the woman replied with a dark grin. "We want to talk to you about Rodney." Bev stood up and made to leave. Only the man's quick actions prevented her.

"I'm done with him," she said desperately.

"You may be done with him, but we aren't. He hurt someone we really care about and we are going to deal with him," the woman declared. Bev was a bit taken aback by the woman's ferocity.

"I don't want anything to do with him," Bev said cautiously.

"Okay," the man said, "but if you want payback, this is your chance. I'm offering you the opportunity to know he will never harm you or another person ever again." Bev gaped.

"You two are talking about ..." she whispered.

"We aren't promising anything," the woman said, "but if you want closure ... we are offering it to you."

"Why? I mean, I you told me about your friend, but why are you talking to me?" Bev wondered.

"My friend wakes up too many nights haunted by what he made her do. He's traumatized other women. This has got to stop. With or without you, we are going to make him pay."

"So I can walk away?" Bev hazarded to guess.

"Yes, but I'd hope you would reconsider," the man stated. Bev eased around him and made for the door. She was still looking over her shoulder when the door shut behind her and she walked down the hall. It took her fifteen minutes and two stiff drinks to come back up. Even as Bev's hand knocked on the door she prayed they were gone. The man answered the door.

"Come in," he said as he ushered her in. Bev found herself shuddering and near tears even though it had been over four years.

"What do you need me to do?" she shook.

"That is up to you," the woman said with some sensitivity. "You want to write him a harsh letter I'll read it to him. You want to wave goodbye, I can do that for you too."

"Are you going ... are you going to kill him?" Bev stammered.

"Do you really need to know that?" the man answered.

"Can I have some time to think about it?" Bev finally managed to say. This was a whole lot happening very fast over a really dark place in her life.

"Take a few days," the woman offered. "Here is a card. It is good for a week, but I hope you call sooner."

Bev took the card and examined it like a terrible thing thrust upon her. How could she tell them about her own nightmares, a long degrading slide away from her dreams into an empty, pointless existence that she called day-to-day life?

"What is in it for me?" Bev muttered. The man seemed surprised but the woman reacted with understanding.

"What do you want?"

"I want a way out," Bev stated. The woman nodded her understanding.

"Have you ever thought about dancing?" the woman asked. Bev looked that her less than impressive chest and back to the woman quizzically.

"Hey you," the woman called to the man. He looked mildly confused then his eyes grew brighter.

"Whatever size you are aiming for I'll take care of," he told her. He looked honest.

"How do I know you will deliver?" Bev persisted. She didn't know why she even said that.

"Come with me tomorrow, Bev and I'll set something up for you. Even if you don't help out you will still get a leg up getting away from him," the Honest Man promised.

"What happens if I back out?" she cringed.

"Nothing," the woman responded. "Consider this your big break."

"Who else is going to be part of this madness?" Bev found herself stumbling into the question.

"We are looking for two of the girls, but we have one online and ready to go."

"What's the plan?" Bev questioned.

"Sign up and we'll tell you," the man said.

"Then we are free?" Bev asked.

"You never need to see us again," the woman said.

"Or, you can keep in touch until you can stand on you own. Something needs to be done for you for the crap this city has put you through," the man informed her.

"Could we go to the police?" Bev said as she sat down on the bed.

"They have their chance. Do you want to face him in court?" the woman. Beverly shook her head. Facing her tormentor would be horrible.

"Beverly, you have the room for the night and I've run a two hundred bill for room service. Stay here tonight. You have to be out by ten a.m." the man sounded compassionate.

Suddenly Bev some sort of synergy with these strangers, each of them wanting the same thing – to ruin another human being who richly deserved it. Bev felt very tired. She sat down on the bed looking at the two other people.

"We'll let you spend some time alone," the woman said. They made to leave.

"Who are you people?" she asked.

"We can't say," the woman answered.

"But we are friends," the man responded.

"The woman you are doing this for is very special?" the inquired.

"Very," the woman replied. The man nodded. It was a realization that had long eluded her – to feel special in someone's eyes. She'd felt that with Rodney until he betrayed and abandoned her and despaired of ever feeling that way again, but maybe if this other woman could end up this way, so could she. Life was no longer the endless road to a bottomless pit.

"I'll do it," she said before the door shut. "What do you need me to do?" The woman looked into the room and smiled.

"All we need you to do is show up and say goodbye. Think about what you want to say because you'll only get this one chance," Rose said with finality. Bev nodded. She had a lot of pain to think about.

(Rodney's Last Night on Earth)

Getting two guys to grab Rodney had been pathetically easy; she'd used some of Kyle's money to hire two bouncers from the club with the added bonus that they were doing Chelsea a secret favor. They were also doing Rose a not-so-secret favor, but she could live with that. Kyle had the fleabag apartment and Rodney was bright enough to have his latest little thing answer the door. She was hardly an impediment.

Rodney's biggest problem was he was a bottom-feeder amongst bottom-feeders. He wasn't worth even someone collecting protection money from. As a criminal he was pretty much a failure. All he did have was fading good looks and dreams about making the next big score. He had no idea why two large men came for him and he cried like a baby as they bound him up and tossed him in the trunk of the car with his girl. Whatever had gone wrong he was already blaming her for.

Kyle had come up in his mind of some elaborate way to save the young girl. The other girls could give testimonials, he could show her investigative evidence gathered against the scumbag, or maybe just reason with her. As he drove the car into the desert his mind was racing with all kinds of things. He almost missed the turn off where Rose and the others were waiting.

Rodney wasn't the strongest man who had ever lived and he put up a bit of a struggle, but when Rose came over to help Kyle they yanked him out soon enough. Rose and Kyle threw him to his knees and ripped off the tape over his mouth while leaving the hands cuffed behind his back.

"Whatever it was, it wasn't me!" Rodney explained. "It was the bitch."

He looked around the site and could make out four figures backlit by the lights of a second car. After the darkness of the trunk the light was blinding. He heard his girlfriend muffle something as she knelt beside him.

"So, if we off your 'bitch' we can call it even Rodney?" Rose suggested.

"Sure, yeah, whatever you say. She's always fucking up. There has to be some mistake, it wasn't me," he blubbered. Kyle slowly pulled the tape off the girl's mouth though she too remained handcuffed.

"Baby?" the girl pleaded to Rodney.

"Shut up bitch," he snapped.

"But ..." the girl began sobbing.

"So, we can deal with the person responsible and the rest of us can go home?" Kyle said quietly.

"Yeah, whatever, as long as you don't make me walk back from wherever it is we are," he grinned.

Rose slapped the tape back on Rodney then knelt in front of the girl.

"If we let you go do you promise to walk away and never look back?"

"I don't ..." she gulped.

"Get your life back. We'll find something for you to do in the city, but you have to promise to walk away now or you can suffer the same fate as Rodney," Rose told her.

The girl was clearly torn. Rodney had his hooks into her deep so that even with his recent betrayal she was still confused and frightened.

"Gale," (her name) Kyle said, "you heard Rodney willing to have you buried in an unmarked grave in the desert without a second's thought. If you still have your dreams this is when you reach for them. You have to know that Rodney is no good for you."

Sometimes Rose thought Kyle was hopelessly naïve, but his saving grace was his sincerity.

"What about Rodney? I don't want anything bad to happen to him," she hesitated.




Just Deserts Ch. 02



"Don't worry about it; Rodney is only getting what's coming to him," Rose promised.

"Okay," the Gale said meekly. 

Kyle led her to the first car and drove some distance from the site and told her to wait for him to come back. When he returned to the others they had gathered around Rodney they were still shielded by the light. Rose removed the tape once more. Now Rodney was looking like a trapped, cornered animal.

No one said anything at this terrible moment, but Beverly finally broke the silence. She stepped out of the lights and walked up to Rodney.

"Remember me?" she spat. It infuriated her when he clearly didn't. It made them all wonder how many girls he'd gone through.

"I'm Beverly. You left me with that biker gang for a weekend, and never showed up to get me. When I finally got home bloody and battered you had moved on. I bled for a week and had to get an abortion," Bev growled. Something inside him clicked and he paled.

"Bev baby," he pleaded. She spit in his face. Three more women stepped up and their anger was unleashed.

In the end Kyle wasn't sure how much good they'd done. They'd torn open wounds. They'd sent the girls back to the car before dragging Rodney into the pit, putting him into the packing crate, and buried it in the pre-prepared hole. They'd packed down the hard desert soil and left the scene.

Kyle drove the girls back to the city. There were still arrangements to make. They hooked up before Chelsea got off and waited in the parking lot.

"Did we do the right thing by not bringing Chelsea?" Kyle asked Rose.

"She has us, and we make up for the hole he ripped in her life. Those girls only have what they've been able to piece together on their own. They needed this and quite frankly I needed this," Rose admitted.

"I would do anything for Chelsea," Kyle responded.

"Kyle, you just buried a body in the desert for Chelsea. I believe you and even if Chelsea must never know, what you did means a hell of a lot to me," Rose told him.

"Friends?" Kyle suggested.

"Best of friends," Rose replied with a genuine smile. As much as she hated to face it, Kyle would do right by Chelsea. He would almost do as good a job for Chelsea as she would. Rose alone picked up Chelsea from work and they chatted amiable on the way back to their apartment where they shared a tender moment. Afterwards she was running her hands through Chelsea's hair along the edge of her breast.

"I like Kyle," Rose stated. Chelsea looked into Rose's eyes.

"What brought this on?" Chelsea wondered.

"Let's just say I've come to appreciate his finer qualities," Rose grinned.

"You two ..." Chelsea hinted warily.

"No, we would never do that to you, Chelsea, but we did spend some bonding time together and I think we reached an understanding," Rose announced.

"Well, that's a good thing then," Chelsea sighed.

"I would have to agree with you on that," she responded.

(Six months later)

Christmas was coming and Rose was packing up the last of Chelsea's boxes from the apartment. The move-in with Kyle had come along slowly but they were finally done. Chelsea took forever to pack things. They drove back to Kyle's new place and moved in the boxes to upstairs to Kyle and Chelsea's room where Chelsea was rearranging the closet –again.

"Here you are Dummy," Rose teased. Chelsea stuck out her tongue and made a raspberry.

"Can I help?" Kyle asked Chelsea.

"No Kyle," she responded looking from one set of shoes to another.

"Come on and help me," Rose suggested, "before she sticks you in the closet too."

Downstairs they went into Rose's room. She'd been packed up when Kyle had first arrived and had her moved in before Chelsea had gotten half way through her own stuff. He sat on her bed while Rose began unpacking her clothes.

"Thanks for giving me a room," Rose said for not the first time.

"You don't need to say that Rose," Kyle smiled. "We both love the same woman and she loves us. I couldn't imagine life with her without you." Rose looked over to him.

"Sometimes I can't believe you are for real," she grinned.

"Well I am," he shrugged. "I wouldn't be here without you and I'm smart enough to know it."