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Scheherazade Nights Ch. 01

By: chasten



Heather held up the complicated contraption: wires, tubes, what looked like a motor. "What the hell is this?" she asked.

Margery, the representative from Cupid's Gifts, said, "That, my dear, is what we call the 'Handyman's Tool Kit'...

"...It's a motorized penis pump."

"A what?!?" shrieked Mary.

"Well, you slide that red tube over..."

Debbie's mind wandered a bit as she looked around at the group of women. Three of them were her good friends: Anne, whose house they were in, Mary, and her best friend, Claire. Maggie worked at the hair salon she and Claire used and was becoming a friend. Laura was a paralegal in the same company as her husband, John, and had become friends with Mary since they lived in the same condo complex. Heather and Vi, were neighborhood acquaintances who lived down the block and she saw them in out their yards or at the store once in a while. Tracy and Jackie she had just met today. And, of course, Margery, who was running the Fuckerware party they were having.

"This is going well," she thought, "much more fun than the Bunco party would have been."

"Earth to Debbie, come in Debbie!" Debbie's mind came back to what was going on. "It's your turn to open a box."

Each of the women had nondescript, cardboard boxes on their laps, taking turns opening them and displaying the contents to the others as Margery answered any questions. The initial shyness at the start of the party had turned to plenty of ribald joking and laughter as they got comfortable under Margery's easy guidance and a few strawberry daiquiris. 

Debbie popped hers open.

"Oh, perfect!" she exclaimed, pulling out a collar and leather manacles that all snapped together.

Claire arched her eyebrow, "And just what do you mean by that, young lady?"

Debbie laughed in confusion, "Oh, nothing, just that they look kind of daring and sexy."

Claire gave her an exaggerated, "Suuuurrrreeee!" and winked.

Jackie picked up her box, drew out a blister pack with 'The Love Bug' in big letters on it, and the attention moved on around the room.

...

Finally, the boxes had all been opened; all the lingerie, lotions and toys had been examined and speculated upon. Margery started packing up, "Just put the order forms in the envelopes and I'll take them with me. No need to mail them in."

The party had been Claire's idea. 

About two years ago, Anne's husband, Sam, had been killed in a car accident. The three friends had rallied round her once the funeral was over, not letting her sit around by herself being lonely. 

The four of them went back years. Debbie and Claire had been assigned as roommates their freshman year in college and had hit it off, rooming together all four years. Anne and Mary had split an apartment with them once out of school and the four had become fast friends, sharing vacations, clothes, and stories about sex...commiserating on jobs, delighting as men came into each other's lives, easing each other through the heartbreaks when they left. 

Though all had married over the intervening years, they were still close, in and out of each other's homes on a weekly basis, the four men brought comfortably into the circle...each accepted as a good choice by the other women.

When Sam died, they started weekly get-togethers, just the four women at first. It wasn't that the three friends wanted to exclude their husbands--there were still barbecues, dinners and beach outings that they all did together. But, they knew that Anne sometimes felt like the odd person out at those things, the only single person, so what started as some impromptu gatherings became a regular Wednesday ritual of Girls Night--sometimes Out, sometimes In.

In the beginning, they just ordered pizza or Chinese and sat around talking, but they soon realized that Anne needed something to distract her a bit more.

They tried going out dancing, but fending off drunk and horny guys week after week was more work than it was worth, so they took turns thinking of things to do: movies one week, dinner at some new restaurant another, trips into the city for museums, a bowling outing one time. The last was kind of fun because the bartender at the bowling alley was an amiable fellow and the shots and beers, combined with truly atrocious play, turned into a bit of a drinking game. They ended up having to take a cab home, laughing the entire time. But, you can't do that every week.

Ideas ran out a bit, so they went back to meeting for drinks and dinner, just talking. As the months slipped by, Anne's mood lightened up a bit and the four resumed their talks from those early, single years, often about men and sex. 

"So, do you think you want to start seeing someone, Anne?" Debbie had asked after about a year. They had debated fixing her up with some nice guys, but were hesitant, unsure of Anne's reaction.

"I don't know," Anne replied, "maybe someday but I don't think just yet."

"It would give you some company at the movies," Mary said.

"It would give you some company between the sheets!" Debbie teased.

"Oh, I have the ol' rabbit for that," Anne laughed.

"Rabbit?" asked Mary.

"You know, the vibrator thingy," Anne said, watching Mary out of the corner of her eyes.

Debbie and Anne burst out laughing at Mary's reaction. She had always been a bit of the, well, not a prude...more of an innocent in all their discussions. 

Later, Debbie said to Mary, "All kidding aside, if she's joking about sex a little, that's good."

"Yes," Mary agreed.

...

They tried putting together a book club but it only lasted a couple of meetings because they couldn't agree on what to read: Mary wanted mysteries, while Claire wanted Nora Roberts; Anne wanted to dive into the new Ishiguro novel, and so on. It fell apart good-humoredly. Maggie, an avid reader, had joined them for that.

The previous thing they had tried was a girls' poker night. It was fun, but the poker wasn't what they hoped. None of them had the nerve to play for real money and, when playing nickel/dime/quarter, there was no incentive to fold...everyone just stuck out every hand. Where was the fun in that? 

However, it did bring a couple more women into their group. Laura had been invited to make the table bigger, and Heather and Vi joined them a few weeks later. The men had offered to come "help" but were laughingly rebuffed.

It has been unfortunate that those poker games hadn't really worked out, given the timing. Anne could have used the distraction. Her wedding anniversary had been a month ago. The first year, it had been a terrible time. This year had been a little better, but they had been surprised at how quickly she had slipped back into a melancholy mood. Her friends were worried about the coming week. Sam's death had been a month after their anniversary...in fact, Saturday would be two years...and they needed to figure out something to keep her spirits up in the coming days.

So, there they had been, the eight women, casting around for something else to do each week. Laura suggested playing Bunco; she had tried it at a party and said it was kind of fun if you had a couple of drinks along with it. But, "You need at least twelve to play, and they have to be in multiples of four."

"I guess we could look around for some more people," Mary said doubtfully.

"Wednesday night is Bingo night at the Rec Center," Maggie said--everyone had to scurry to clean up the spilled drinks from the pillows being thrown across the room.

"How about we try a gourmet group?" asked Mary.

Anne wasn't keen, "I wasn't much of a cook when Sam was around; I don't really think I'd like that."

The silence was awkward for a moment or two.

Suddenly, Claire said, "I have something. Let me make a call."

"What?"

Claire smiled. "Let me make a call," and walked out of the room, ignoring the questions.

She came back a few minutes later. "Okay, everyone be here at 6:00 next week; don't be late. If you want to invite girl friends, that's okay. Bring an hors d'oeuvre and a sense of humor."

"Claire, what is it?"

"Well, girls, next week, a woman I know is going to come over to help coordinate the party Anne's going to be hosting..."

"Party?" Anne didn't look particularly happy at the thought.

"Yep. Seems like Anne has just signed up to give a Fuckerware party!"

"No shit!"

"Oh my God!"

...

The order forms were all gathered and Margery had left amidst laughter and good wishes. "I'll drop everything with Anne during the week, ladies." 

The women sat back, joking about what had just gone on; comfortable with each other after an hour and a half of hilarity. Anne held up the lacy lingerie she had received as a gift for hosting the party with a wry, "Hmmm, not much use for this right now." 

"Wear it just to feel good about yourself," Laura said.

"Hell, yes. I wear sexy stuff all the time. Makes me feel good," Maggie put in. "Plus, whenever Peter gets a peek, I like the thoughts going through his head," she added.

"Which head?" asked Claire, with a deadpan expression.

Anne got a mischievous look on her face. "So, this four year old is being give a bath by his mother. He looks between his legs, then up at her and says, 'Mommy, are these my brains?'"

Anne paused for a beat, "'Not yet,' said the mother."

More jokes followed, mostly about men, but nothing ill-natured. Finally, Tracy said she had to leave. The others milled about, grabbing another daiquiri and nibbling at the cheese and crackers out on the porch, chatting.

"Okay, girl, spill!" said Claire turning to Debbie.

"Spill what?"

"Don't you dare play innocent with me! I want to know what you meant by 'perfect'. I saw your order form; you checked that collar off."

"I can't believe you peeked! Those forms were supposed to be private!" Debbie said indignantly.

"Oh, no, no, no you don't! Don't make this about me." Claire laughed. "Either you tell us all or...well, I don't know what I'll do, but I'll make sure you don't like it."

"It's nothing."

"Then you won't mind telling us, will you?" Anne added sweetly.

"No, seriously, it's nothing."

"Luuccy, I think you got some 'splainin to do," mimicked Heather in her best Ricky Ricardo voice.

Anne looked at Debbie, putting on a face all innocent, "I'm just wondering why your cheeks are a bit pink, Debbie?"

That definitely caused some color in Debbie's cheeks. "Umm, it's just... well, I've got a fantasy night coming up with John."

"Oh, you slut, you!" laughed Anne. "Tell me more!"

"Wait, wait, a minute," said Claire, "You have one coming up? Like...you schedule them?"

"Well, sort of."

"Okay, this I've got to hear. You're not going anywhere, girlfriend. Anne, pour her another one. Hey everyone! Grab a seat. Debbie is going to tell us a story," she said with an evil little twinkle.

"Claire, I don't...," Debbie started.

"Come on, Debbie, it's too early to end the evening," pleaded Anne.

...

"It started last year. John and I weren't agreeing about a vacation. I was tired of that rainy spring, really dying for some sun--I wanted to go to Aruba. The problem is, John's not a big fan of beaches. He gets bored just sitting anywhere; he absolutely hates sitting in the sun. He wanted to go hiking in Scotland. In my mind, that was just going to be mist and rain.

"We could only afford one because we had gone skiing with the family the preceding Christmas. We weren't fighting about it, but neither of us was budging, either. Somehow the idea came up to have a contest, winner got their vacation. We danced around trying to find something that we both felt we had a chance to win, but which wasn't as totally random as flipping a coin. Turns out we couldn't agree on that, either.

"Finally--remember that night we all went out to Estella's Restaurant? John and I were a bit tipsy and we were sitting around in the living room and he said that, if I would go to Scotland, he'd do any fantasy of mine I wanted."

"Whoo, girl," Maggie hooted, "I hope you took him up on that!"

Debbie hesitated and then said in a rush, "Actually, I said, how about I would do any fantasy of his if we went to Aruba."

"You didn't!" Mary said.

"Well, he countered and said he'd do three of mine for Scotland and then I said five for Aruba...as I said, we had had too much to drink.

"Anyway, he started thinking about it at that point, and I got nervous about what I was getting myself into. I asked him did he even have five fantasies and what kind of things would I have to do, 'cause there were limits. He laughed and said, 'Hon, I've got more than five, believe me'.

"Of course, then I wanted to know about them.

"He told me some of them--I could tell he was censoring them a bit, but they were interesting to hear. Then he asked me about mine. I wouldn't normally have talked about that but I was feeling good and the mood had gotten kind of sexy, so I did.

"We ended up realizing that both of us had some fantasies that we had been too embarrassed or too nervous to talk to the other person about them. We didn't want to seem perverted to each other. The funny thing is, when we started talking about them, we found out that the other person rarely thought the fantasies were that strange. Some of them we'd even have been glad to do with each other...a couple maybe not so much...", she laughed nervously, "...but it wasn't that they bothered us, just that they weren't that interesting.

"I don't know who thought of it first. Somehow the original idea of a contest and the topic of fantasies got put together and, when we were done, we had The Game. When we woke up the next morning, we were both kind of bashful about it, but finally John said, 'So, it is on?' and I said 'I guess so' and there we were."

"So, come on, what is it?"

"About every month or so, each of us gets to ask the other to perform any fantasy they want. If the other completes the fantasy successfully, they get points. At the end of the game, the person with the most points gets to choose their vacation."

"Holy shit!" breathed more than one of the women.

"Any fantasy?" Heather asked.

"Umm, pretty much. I mean, we have rules to make sure we stay married, but there's still a lot of room for creativity. Just because something isn't interesting for him doesn't mean I shouldn't get my kicks from it."

"Whew, girl, I like your style!" exclaimed Claire.

"But," Heather persisted, "weren't you worried that he'd want you to do something that you thought was really bad?"

"In a word? No, not really," Debbie said. "John's a pretty decent guy. He's not a pedophile or some kind of rapist; he's not looking to hurt me. On the other side, I'm not the kind that wants to turn her husband into an emasculated cuckold. If either of us were really twisted in some way, I think our marriage would have bigger problems than where to go on vacation. But, we aren't.

"Honestly," she continued, "I suspect our desires are probably pretty much like anyone else's, if the truth were being told."

"Don't get me wrong. There are definitely fantasies that the other person isn't really interested in, maybe doesn't even really like so much...but they don't make that person want to gag or run away. They just aren't exciting or maybe are a bit uncomfortable. There's nothing wrong with that. The point is that the person choosing what we do is really excited by it. I can endure a little boredom if I know he's having the time of his life. My turn will come later."

"And the winner picks the vacation?" asked Vi, joining the conversation for the first time.

"Yep."

"What happens if you have the same number of points?" 

Heather interrupted, her mind still back on her original topic, "But, for someone to win, that means that someone didn't do a fantasy, right? And that means they didn't like what they had to do. How do you stop that? I mean, I know you say that you're nice people...and you are, Debbie, really, I don't mean anything bad...but what if it's just something you're not comfortable with?

"We have safe words, Heather. Everything stops instantly when those are used and we talk it over to see where things go from there. Maybe they mean 'stop what you're doing at this moment' or maybe they mean 'stop this entire fantasy, I can't do this'. Either way, we never, ever, ever have to do anything we really object to doing."

"Have you ever used them?" Mary wanted to know.

"Yes. We both have. My calf got a charley horse one time when I...umm...well, I was tied up." Debbie looked incredibly self-conscious as the rest broke into laughter. "It hurt so badly, I just had to get him to stop and help me stretch it, so I used the safe word. It was so sore after the cramp passed, I couldn't let him tie that leg back up."

"Poor boy!" said Claire...more laughter.

"What about when he used it?" asked Anne.

Debbie's face got pensive for a moment. "Let's just say I mismanaged something kind of badly and put him in a situation he wasn't prepared to deal with."

"Are you guys okay?" asked Claire.

"Oh, yes, we stopped the whole thing and talked it out. We're good." 

She brightened a bit. "I'm certain that someday the shoe will be on the other foot and, anyway, the rules also explicitly say I don't have to feel guilty," she laughed. "Maybe someday I'll do a better job of it and we'll get that one."

Vi jumped back in with her question, "So, what happens in a tie?"

"John was a sweetie. He agreed I could win a tie. I think he was so excited at the prospect of the next few months that I really missed my chance," Debbie smiled. "Note to self: hit husband up for a couple of other things next time he's dreaming about sex."

"And was there a tie? Who won?" Vi continued.

"I did, by a few points. John's going to win this time. It's set up so we'll more or less alternate unless someone really wimps out. I'm already looking for waterproof hiking shoes."

"So, so tell us how Aruba was." said Mary.

"Mary...fuck Aruba!" shouted Claire. "I want to know more about the damn game!"

....

"What is it you're dying to hear, Claire?" asked Debbie.

"I don't know! Everything?" 

Everyone laughed. "Start with the schedule. How often do you do it?...The fantasies, I mean!" as Anne began to make the obvious joke.

"About once a month we each get a day. We skip around the holidays because we're so busy, so maybe ten times a year."

"A whole day?"

"Yep, 6 a.m. to 6 a.m...though they rarely last the long."

"And how does the person do it? Do they just tell you what to do?"

"There's no set format. Sometimes you get instructions before hand, sometimes you just get told what to do as the day goes on, sort of 'Now you do this' kind of thing."

"You mean like a slave?" breathed Heather.

Debbie laughed. "Well, it can be, but not necessarily. What if the person whose turn it is has a fantasy about being submissive? They can tell the other person to be the dominatrix or dominator or whatever the word is. It's happened," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"God, that's kinky!" said Heather.

"Oh, I don't know," said Anne. "I think fantasies about being tied up are pretty common. Maybe most people don't do them, but I think they're there."

Debbie continued, "Anyway, yes, Heather, you can have a slave, if that's what you want. You can also have an equal partner who just happens to be doing something you really want them to do. Whatever you choose."

Claire went back to her questions. "You said you had rules?"

"The rules are what make it all work. Without them, I think there's too much risk someone might go too far and hurt things between us before they realized what they were doing. And that's something neither of us is willing to risk. We want to stay married more than we want to play The Game."

"Give us a fer instance," Claire pressed.

"Well, you already know one. The safe words. Rule #2: There are always safe words no matter what. If the partner cannot speak, a signal must be agreed upon beforehand."


Scheherazade Nights Ch. 01



"Can't speak?" wondered Mary.

"Sure, it happens. What if my mouth is full?" Debbie asked archly.

"Oh my God, Debbie, that's disgusting!" but Mary looked a bit pink, not disgusted.

"I meant with food," Debbie smirked.

"You did not!" Mary retorted, as everyone laughed.

"Tell us all the rules," said Anne.

"Well, Rule #3: No fantasy can be allowed to cause any problems for relationships with friends, family, neighbors, or work. That one takes some creativity sometimes...not letting the neighbors see!" 

Everyone giggled.

"Rule #4: No one can ever be injured and no permanent marking without prior consent."

"Oh, that's a good one. Pain isn't very exciting," Claire said.

Debbie was quiet a moment. "The rule says 'injured', Claire, not 'pain'. A little pain, as long as it doesn't violate any of the other rules, is okay."

The other women looked shocked.

"Well, honestly, it's really limited by the other rules. But still, if John's got a fantasy of spanking me, the rules say it's okay. If I can't take it, I have to safe word. The rule just makes it clear that no damage is ever done no matter where things go."

"But, Debbie..."

"Listen, neither John nor I have any desire to really hurt the other. It's all play, sometimes the tiniest bit rough, but play. Trust me, no one gets hurt. Even if someone misjudged, the safe word rule protects you. Seriously, don't make it more than it is." The other women looked doubtful, but settled back.

"The permanent marking thing is, like, tattoos?" Anne asked finally.

"Yeah. No tattoos without prior consent, which I don't think either of us is ready to do right now. You know, it occurred to me the other day that we should revisit that rule since I'm not sure John and I agree on the word 'permanent'. Since you can let a piercing close up, it is considered permanent? I'd rather agree beforehand that I'm NOT getting my nipples pierced than have to stop him when he asks."

"He's asking you to do that?" Mary wanted to know.

"No, not at all! Just better safe than sorry. The rules aren't cast in stone; we can tweak them if we need to."

"Ask him quite innocently if giving him a scrotum piercing is within the rules. He'll change the rule on his own before you can say another word," Claire suggested lightly.

Anne laughed, "Actually, he'll be too busy turning green and clutching the family jewels to do anything right away!"

...

"Rule #5: The partner need not enjoy the fantasy, there's no guilt.

"Really what this means is it's a license to be selfish and have fun just for yourself; it's your fantasy. If I'm having fun, that's the thing. If it's a problem, it's on him to use his safe word. And vice-versa, of course." 

"I guess that makes some sense, given that the point is to have your fantasies made real," mused Claire.

Debbie said, "I put that rule in. John's the type of guy who would have started worrying how I was doing in the middle of one of his fantasies. I wanted him to know that it's okay to just...you know...let go and have fun and trust me to watch out for myself."

"Rule #6: The activities must all be directed toward the fantasy.

"This one's maybe a little subtle. The point is that you have to choose things because they fulfill your fantasy, not for some other motive. For example, you can't try to get someone to safe word just to cause them to lose points."

"Oooh, good thinking!" said Heather.

"Hey, I'm not saying I would ever cheat that way," Debbie giggled, "but if things had gotten close and Aruba had been in jeopardy...well, a girl's got limits and Rule #6 is there to keep me honest.

"Rule #7: The person running the fantasy may not have any sexual contact with a third person. You can involve another person with your partner when you're boss, but you can't do anything yourself."

Claire looked surprised. "I think every straight man on the planet has a fantasy about two women. Did John argue a lot against that one?"

"Actually, he's the one who asked for that rule." Now all the women looked surprised.

"John's a guy, yes, but he's also introspective enough to know that he couldn't handle me telling him to get lost while I spent my day having sex with another guy... HEY, I'm not saying I would have done that! For God's sake!" she yelled quickly as the others opened their mouths for the inevitable question, "You know I'm not like that!

"But, I think John knew he could relax more if he knew it was explicit. Even if it was just a one-time fantasy thing, there's just way too much baggage around that!

"And, frankly, that's just fine with me. I don't think I'd be in great shape if it was the other way. The Game isn't about cheating. John and I love each other, and making sure that the other is always, always, always secure is priority numero uno."

"You said the partner can be with another person, though...does that mean...like...has John ever had you with another guy while he was there?" Mary wanted to know, fascination clear in her voice.

"Trust me, Mary, it's never happened and I'm pretty sure it never will. John has no fantasies of seeing me have sex with another guy, I assure you."

"What about another woman?" Heather asked slyly.

"On to Rule #8..."

"OH MY GOD! DEBBIE!"

"Rule #8," Debbie said firmly, her cheeks pink, "No activity that caused a safe word can be retried without agreement from the partner. I think it's pretty clear. I caused John to safe word once. I can never put him in that situation again unless we talk it through and he says I can try. We added that rule this year."

"What was it that happened?" Mary asked.

"That's between us, I think, Mary. I'm sorry...no offense. I'd just rather not talk about it."

"Anyway, those are the rules except for Rule #1. It's the most important, but it's kind of sappy. So don't laugh, okay?

"It goes like this--Rule #1: Everything must be done in a spirit of play.

"That's the one that makes all the other rules work. We may do things the other doesn't especially like, say things that sound a little harsh in a particular fantasy...but everything is always a game and we can never, ever forget that. Nothing is ever intended to belittle or make the other feel bad. The day either of us cannot follow Rule #1, The Game stops. We both know that.

"Now, I don't know about you, but I need a potty break."

...

"So, what kinds of things have you guys done?" Anne asked when Debbie came back.

"No dice, girls. You fed me enough alcohol to tell you The Game existed. That's it."

"Oh, come on! You can't stop there!" Anne protested.

"Can and have. Well, ladies, I must be going."

"Debbie, wait! You have to give us something."

"No, actually I don't," Debbie smiled.

"So, I'm guessing from those cuffs you have a fantasy date coming up? Whose?" asked Claire, holding Debbie's purse behind her.

Debbie tried to grab it, failed as Claire held it up high. 

"Fine, a week from Saturday; one of mine." She snatched her purse as Claire turned and smiled at Anne.

"And what are you going to do?"

"Good night, ladies," Debbie laughed as she swept toward the door.

"You bitch!" Claire yelled through her laughter. "I'm going to tell John you bought a collar for him!"

Debbie looked back for a second. "The manacles? They're for me, not him..." The door closing punctuated that sentence.



Scheherazade Nights Ch. 02



The next day, Debbie got a text from Claire, "Call me when you have time."

She called her friend later that day.

"Debbie, I want to talk about something. About Saturday--I don't think we should let Anne sit around by herself. Last year she was worse on the anniversary of Sam's death than on their wedding anniversary and I assume it's going to the same this year."

"I'm with you on that. Let's take her out and do something."

"She already said she doesn't want to go out."

"Then what?"

"Well, I want to talk to you about something else." Claire sounded a bit nervous. "Look, we all know Anne's been in the dumps lately, what with her anniversary and all. But, yesterday, she was excited and laughing. She had a good time."

"Yeah, I noticed that, too. The party was a good idea."

"Yeah, well...the thing is, after you told us about The Game, that good mood kept going until I left. That was hours..."

"And...," Debbie didn't like the sound of where this was going.

Claire finished in a rush. "Well, I want you continue the story, tell her one of your fantasies. Keep her interested. Wait! Wait!" Claire interrupted as Debbie started to respond. "Listen! I know what you're going to say. Just listen a second!

"Deb, I haven't seen her like this in a long time. She couldn't stop talking about what you told us. She was laughing, chattering away, getting us to speculate on what you guys maybe did. It was almost like Anne before Sam died. Ask Mary if you don't believe me."

"I believe you, Claire. But...those are really personal things. I know we've talked about sex before, but this is a bit beyond 'So, I slept with him' kind of thing. I'd be too uncomfortable to talk about them."

Claire's voice turned serious. "I know. Really, I do. I'm not trying to manipulate you..." 

"Yeah, right!" Debbie snorted.

"No really. But, she still hurts and Saturday is going to remind her how much it all sucks. This is the only thing I can think of."

"Yeah, I know it is. But...I don't know, Claire. It's just...," Debbie didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"Beyond embarrassing?" asked Claire.

"To say the least!"

Claire sighed.

"Why don't you tell a story about your sex life instead, Claire?" asked Debbie.

"Honestly, Debbie?"

"Sure."

"Well, Bill and I have never done anything as hot as what you started to describe. Not even close. That's why."

"How do you know? I didn't describe anything."

"Deb, are you kidding me? Don't you realize how unbelievably sexy just making a game of fantasies is? That alone makes your story incredibly hot. Bill and I have never really done much of anything beyond what any college kid does."

"You haven't?"

"He's tied me up on the bed once. That's it. We have good sex, Deb, but it's kind of vanilla beyond a little groping in a movie theater and me going braless once in a while to tease him."

"So tell her about being tied up."

"It's not the same. I was embarrassed and then that made him embarrassed and it didn't go much farther than a little teasing and...umm...oral, you know. It would be hard to make much of a sexy story around it. You've already started and her imagination is already going. There's nothing I've got to match that."

"Claire! This isn't fair!"

"I understand. But...think about it, Deb. Just the four us; no one else needs to know. Or just with Anne if you don't want Mary and me there. That's fine. Really. This isn't about me trying to worm a story out of you."

"Uhhh..."

"Please? Think about it?"

...

"John?"

"Yes, hon?" he said absently.

"How would you feel if I told the girls about one of my fantasy days?"

"Whoa! I guess I mind," he replied. "You want to tell me what you're talking about?"

"Okay, so you know what we did at Girls Night yesterday...the Fuckerware party, right?"

John nodded, smiling.

"Well, I kind of slipped and made a comment about one of the toys being useful, and Claire pounced all over it."

"And what did you say?" asked John.

"Well, she kept after me and finally I just told them about The Game. Not what we actually did, just that it existed and the rules for it."

"I see," he said slowly.

"Are you mad?" she asked.

"Well, not mad, exactly. Maybe a bit irritated that you didn't talk it over with me first," he responded.

"Hon, I know. I kind of just choked and got flustered. Then, I figured I might as well just tell them the truth rather than let them imagine whatever they wanted." She grimaced, "Can you forgive me?"

"You just told them the rules, not what we actually do?"

"Yes. They asked, of course, but I clammed up."

"But now you want to tell them more? Why?"

So, Debbie told him about her conversation with Claire, about Anne's reactions, about the three of them getting together with Anne to cheer her up this weekend. "So, I said no, at first. But Claire kept pointing out that we don't have a better idea for how to keep her from going into a funk. So, I thought maybe if I told about some of the tamer times..."

John was silent for a long time, thinking.

"Which ones?"

"I was thinking maybe my second one or that time at the Fremont Hotel, or maybe your first one."

"None of mine!" his response was sharp.

"Okay...no problem! Ummm, can you tell me why?" she asked.

"Those are my fantasies, Debbie. I'm just not comfortable having you tell others about things I feel or think about." He sat for a moment. "Look, I'm sorry I snapped...but, it was awkward for me to talk about them with you...I'm really not comfortable having people outside the marriage know about them."

"That's fine, John. I understand. Does this mean you're okay with me talking about some of mine."

"I'm thinking about it. There are some of yours I wouldn't want talked about."

"Which ones? I wouldn't talk about anything you didn't want me to."

"Well, obviously not the February one."

"Yeah, I never considered that one."

"I don't know, Debbie, this sounds a little embarrassing but, on the other hand, I understand where you coming from about wanting to help Anne." He paused for a while. "I have to think about this a bit."

...

John ran into Anne at the grocery store the next day. He waved, "Hi, Anne."

She walked over. "Hey, lover boy!" she grinned at him.

"What?" he said, knowing perfectly well what was coming.

She laughed, "Oh, don't give me that innocent look. That was certainly an eye-opener that Debbie hit us with. Of course, we couldn't get her to spill the REALLY juicy stuff...but our imaginations are certainly filling in the blanks!" she teased.

John flushed a little, "You think The Game is weird?"

"Oh my God, no! I think it's sexy as hell; I bet everyone did whether they admit it or not. Half of them are probably wishing they had the nerve to suggest the same thing to their husband. No, she made our evening."

John smiled, "Well, I'm glad you were entertained."

"Best night in a long while."

...

"Okay, Debbie, go ahead. But just the ones we talked about."

...

"Claire, I'll do it. Just the four of us, though."

"Oh, Debbie! Thanks!"

"You owe me fucking big time!"

"I know."

"I'll collect."

"Yeah, I know that, too."

...

The three friends shanghaied Anne the next morning for a day at the spa. She was cheerful on the surface, but they could see the shadows around her eyes, evidence of some tears earlier in the day or the preceding night.

They spent their time chatting through massages and haircuts, facials, new nail polish, and every other kind of cosseting a credit card would buy. They made sure to keep Anne firmly in the conversation and, slowly, the tension lines eased around her eyes.

It was almost dinner time when they headed back to Debbie's house. They found a note from John: "Bill and I have gone out to the movies. Back late. Lasagna in the oven and salad in the fridge if you want it. See you later. -J."

"He's a keeper, Debbie," laughed Mary.

"Don't I know it! Who wants a gin and tonic?"

They sat around the pool in the warm evening air, limp and relaxed from the day. Claire started teasing Mary about the massage attendant who had seemed so attentive. "Pretty hot, Mary. I noticed you weren't in any hurry to get up from that table."

Mary blushed a little. "Don't be silly!"

"Silly?" Claire said in mock surprise, "I wasn't the one who said, 'Oh, there's no rush to the steam room; I'm sure someone else is using it' was I?"

Debbie jumped in, "Yeah, I'm not sure who had the bigger smile on their face during that rub, you or he."

Mary might embarrass easily but that didn't mean she wasn't game. "But, Debbie," she laughed, "I was facing away from him. You were the one on the next table staring at his ass the entire time!"

"In your dreams! He was way too young for me," Debbie replied with an airy wave of her hand.

Claire met Debbie's eyes for a second. "So, Deb, speaking of dreams...continuing our conversation from the other night..."

Anne perked up, "Yeah, that's right. I think you need to continue that story. And don't tell us you have to head home, 'cause we're already there!"

"Well...," Debbie said reluctantly...the reluctance only half feigned.

"Come on!" Anne wheedled. "You can tell us; we're your best buddies." 

Still Debbie hesitated.

Anne smiled, "Just one of the tamer ones...you can keep your really kinky secrets, if you're such a prude."

"I am not a prude! I've told you lots of things over the years!" Debbie protested.

"Ah, good, I'm glad we got that settled." Anne settled back into her chair. "So...I'm listening...and, please, don't skip any of the hot details!"

"Okay, a tame one."

Anne clapped her hands together and grinned.

"I need another G&T for this," Debbie muttered. She didn't miss the excited glances that passed between the other three as she got up to refresh her drink.

...

"I wasted my first fantasy day." They were all back by the pool, fresh drinks in hand. Debbie had her hat pulled down low, ostensibly to block the sun, but really so she wouldn't have to meet anyone's eyes. The other three were sitting back, listening intently.

"We flipped a coin to see who would go first. I did. I was nervous, not really sure of how this was all going to play out, and kind of wimped a bit.

"I had us do things that, when I looked back, were pretty ordinary: dinner, dancing, nice romantic sex, some cuddling after."

Claire laughed, "Wait, wait...that last thing has got to be something out of the ordinary!" 

"Yeah, maybe," Debbie laughed along with everyone, "but, still, it was kind of like celebrating my birthday or something. Not really like a fantasy.

"Anyway, the second time was better," Debbie continued. "John's first day had been a bit more like what we had talked about... NO! I said I wasn't going to tell you! Get over it!

"So, if I might continue?" she glared around. The others looked abashed...an act completely spoiled by the giggles. "As I was saying...John planned his first day better and I realized I needed to up my game. I wasn't sure right up until the last minute what I wanted to do.

"Work ran late on Friday; I didn't get out until almost 8:00 that night. I was exhausted and cranky. Plus, I was really frustrated that I hadn't figured out a plan for the next day.

"I also knew John was going to be a bit disappointed. He had sent me a couple text messages that let me know he was feeling frisky--I think the anticipation of wondering what the next day would bring was giving him a few ideas about when I got home--but, honestly, I just wanted some dinner and to fall asleep.

"Driving home, I realized what the plan was going to be.

"I stopped at a shop on the way home for a bunch of things I needed and grabbed some fast food. When I got home, he gave me a big kiss and was clearly in the mood. But, he took it with good grace when I told him it had been too long a day. 'Don't wake me in the morning but I want fresh bagels with lox and hot coffee when I wake up. Oh, and learn to make some new drink that's cool and limey,' I told him and then fell into bed after barely getting my jacket and skirt off."

Debbie paused for a sip of her drink, then continued...

- - - - -

I woke up late the next morning and took a quick shower to get the grime from the day before off me. Afterwards, I put on my swimsuit, grabbed my beach bag and a book and went out to sit by the pool. John had the brunch I asked for waiting and it was nice to sit in the early sun and just relax. Our cordless phone has an intercom built in and I told John I wanted him to have one of the handsets with him at all times that day. 

I read for a while, just letting the sun bake me. I had him bring me a drink every so often, ice teas at first, then I tried his ice cold caiperinha as the day got a bit hotter. They were great, just what I wanted: not too strong or sweet and he used fresh limes. I wasn't drinking a lot, just enough for a little buzz, not getting drunk. 

After a while, when I felt nice and toasted, I dove in for a quick dip and then called him to come out.

"John, I want you to give me a body massage," I said, handing him a bottle of oil from my bag. "Start at my feet and work your way up. I'd like it to last maybe an hour." I undid the ties of my bikini top and bottom. Seeing his face light up, I said, "Seriously, no wandering hands. I want a real massage," and then lay face down on the chaise. 

The feel of his fingers working my muscles was heaven. The sore feet and calves from the day before eased as he worked on them. The sun was warm enough that I didn't feel any chill even though I was naked. I drifted along, not sleepy, but kind of...I don't know...languid. 

After a while, I felt totally relaxed. Just limp. He was working on my hands, kneading the palms with his thumbs, when I rolled over. I put my hand in his arm, stopping him. "Now, use your mouth and make me come." 

He smiled at me, slid down between my legs. I have to tell you, I was already feeling so good from his hands all over me, that his tongue just felt incredible. It didn't take him long to do what he was told. When I finished, he started to straighten up, but I just pushed him back and said, "Again!" 

The second orgasm was much stronger than the first. I'm glad the neighbors weren't out--you can see that the fence blocks their view but it probably wouldn't have blocked the moans.

This time, after I came, he started to slide up my body, but I just looked at him and said, "No, you're done here. I'd like a turkey sandwich and another drink as soon as you can, please."

He was obviously surprised. "Don't you want..." he started.

"No, normally I might, but not today. As fun as it is usually, John, today I'm just not in the mood for any kind of effort other than relaxing and being pampered. Completely pampered. Yeah, I'm worked up and kind of horny, but I don't really want to spend the energy to do my part, you know?"

"So, no offense, but today I think you'll do all the work and I'll just lie back and enjoy it. Tongue, fingers, maybe some toys later are fine...but Little John stays in your pants because, when he's out, your mind isn't completely on me. Capisce?" I grinned at him. 

"By the way, I do believe I said lunch as soon as you can? By the time you've got it ready...why...I think I might just be ready myself, if you know what I mean. The sun feels so good and I'm feeling so comfortable, I think I might just be ready a lot today."

You girls know I love oral sex, right? Well, wow!...I got what I wanted that day. 

John's never been shy about going down on me but now it wasn't a prelude to the main event...it WAS the main event. A lot of main events! And I'd make him work until I came at least twice each time; the second time is always better for me. I lost track of how many times I had him do it over the next couple of hours. Five? Six, maybe? I don't remember. It was like I died and went to heaven. I'd just crook my finger at him and say, "Again!" and sink into the feel of his tongue and fingers sliding into me.

Later in the afternoon, I was feeling like I had enough sun, so I pulled on my robe and walked into the family room. "John, come up to the guest room with me."

I lay back on the bed and handed him a DVD. "Put this on, but turn the sound down, please." It was that Spanish film that Erika Lust made, the one that was especially for women. 

Oh my God; you girls have to see this film! It doesn't matter whether you understand what they're saying. It's not just a bunch of ugly guys screwing some silicone bimbos making stupid noises. The scenes are totally sensuous with these hot guys just doing things for women.

"Now, take these books and read to me." I handed him a book of fem porn stories I had bought. "And I'd like you to be naked and sitting beside me while you do."

For the next hour, I enjoyed watching and listening and touching and being touched. It seemed like all my senses were involved in turning me on. Most of the stories were completely erotic--I'd drag my hand over his body while he was reading, teasing him by stroking his cock a couple times, then stopping. Once I leaned over and took it into my mouth for a couple of seconds and then lay back on the pillows. I wanted him excited. Sometimes I'd ask him to stop and lick my nipples for a while, or run his finger over my clit, but I kept it at a teasing level for me, too. I didn't want to come just yet.

As it went on, I felt my body becoming more and more aroused. It was almost like I felt myself tingling all over. I was getting hornier and hornier yet, at the same time, the getting there was so much fun that I didn't want to rush it. The scenes on the TV were...well...making me practically drip. I was just about buzzing with excitement when this scene of a guy stroking himself came on. I wanted the real thing.

"John, stop reading and sit at the end of the bed facing me." He moved down. "Masturbate for me. I want to watch you come."

He was maybe a little embarrassed but, at this point, completely turned on himself. As he started, I said, "Close your eyes. Just think about me watching you do this. Think about that you're putting on a show to make me excited." It didn't take him long. I was getting more and more keyed up and, when he finally started to come, I could barely stand it. I waited as long as I could, until I saw his body barely stop spasming, then I sat forward and grabbed his hair with both hands.

"Open your eyes!" I looked straight into them, "Don't stop until I tell you!" then pulled his head down as I spread my legs.

I can't believe how good that one was; it felt like a single orgasm that went on for minute after minute after minute.

When it was over, I just lay there, completely spent. I felt John get up and go into the bathroom but I just lay there, almost asleep. I heard the shower run and then nothing for a couple of hours. 

I woke up about 5:00. John was puttering around and I asked him to go run me a bath. When it was ready, I slid into it and asked him to scrub my back, massage my feet some more, wash my hair, then comb it out, while I just lay there, enjoying the pleasure of someone taking care of me.

"John, I'm just going to soak for a while more, then I'll be in our bedroom. Would you grill me a small steak for dinner? There are some in the fridge. Maybe with some of the cut-up fruit. And a bottle of wine."

"Sure, hon," he said.

"I'd like you to serve it in our room. In fact, I'd like you to feed me."

"Okay."

"And, while you're feeding me, I want you to do it slowly. I want you to take your time, pause occasionally, and tease me. A bite of steak, then some kisses on my neck, a sip of wine, then run your fingernails down the inside of my thighs, that kind of thing. When you're feeding me fruit, do it like it's the most sensuous thing in the world, maybe drip the juices on my breasts and then lick them off. Nothing hard, you're not making me come, you're keeping me on edge. I really want to be in the mood for what happens after dinner."




Scheherazade Nights Ch. 02



He asked me what that was. 

"You're going to set the dishes outside the door and I'm going to lie down in the middle of the bed. Then, you're going to come fuck me until I don't want any more. Mostly you'll be on top, maybe sometimes not...I'll tell you how I want it. If I need a break, I want you to keep me tingling with foreplay until I say, then start again. Until I'm too worn out to continue.

"That's the thing, John...I'll decide when I've had enough. That means I don't want you coming early and spoiling my fun. You do whatever it takes...if that means using this, you use it."

I handed him the tube of desensitizing cream I had bought the night before. He wasn't happy to see it. 

"I mean it," I looked at him severely, "I'm telling you not to come. If you can do it without that, fine...but I doubt it and mistakes are not acceptable. I don't know how long that stuff lasts, so you keep it handy...or do whatever you have to--but you stay hard until I'm ready to stop!

"You're lucky," I told him as an afterthought. "You wore me out so much this afternoon that I doubt I'll want to come more than three or four times. The hard ones, that is, not counting the little ones in between. That will be the perfect ending for my day."

- - - - -

Debbie looked around at the other women.

"Whew!" said Mary her face red--from excitement this time, not embarrassment.

"Yeah...," drawled Claire, "you can say that again!"

"Oh my God, Debbie, I'm soaking just listening to you!" Anne said, a huge smile on her face.

Claire's and Debbie's eyes met for a brief second, pleased.

"Did you ever let him...?" asked Claire.

"Nope," Debbie giggled. "After I came the last time, I was completely exhausted and just a bit sore, even though I had him use lube, and I just rolled over and went to sleep and didn't wake up until the next morning."

"Hehe, serves a guy right to see what that's like!" Claire laughed.

"Was he mad?" asked Anne.

"No. Frustrated big time, I'm sure!" Debbie smiled. "But he understood: part of my fantasy was to have someone else just do me, not have to worry about them coming. He may have done something about it after that cream wore off, I don't know--he definitely got some action the next morning."

"You didn't mind that?"

"Of course not! The fantasy was over; we were just husband and wife again. When your guy's that worked up, you take care of him just like you'd want him to do for you, right? I was sore, so I gave him an A-Number-1 blowjob. That took the lead out of his pencil."

...

"Good night, Debbie."

"Night guys. Drive safely."

Claire, last one out the door, high-fived Debbie as she walked out.



Scheherazade Nights Ch. 03



If you want to know how it felt, that shiver was not one of fear-- it was sexual. A good looking guy had wanted me...there had been no doubt his invitation to dinner was going to be followed by one to his bed. Not only that, he thought I might be interested in the same thing, a night of no-strings sex. I was turned on by that.

I looked over at John again. He met my eyes, but made no other acknowledgement. I gave him a smile...not the smile of a wife for a husband...that smile we had when we were single for the cute guy at the end of the bar we saw checking us out, "I don't mind you looking; I might not even mind something more."

I turned back to my drink, letting myself sink into things, giving myself up to whatever was planned, confident that nothing would happen that wasn't John's intent and my fantasy.

...

When the bartender happened to catch my eye, I smiled him over. "May I have a gin and tonic this time, with lime." I had no intention of getting drunk, not even a buzz on, but I wanted just that light warmth of a drink.

He stayed after he set the drink down. "I don't think I've seen you here before," he said, polishing a couple of glasses. 

"No. This is my first time here."

He continued his work for a while, then, "First time anywhere?" The question was level, no hint of anything in his voice.

I met his eyes, tacitly acknowledged his evaluation of the situation. "Yes."

He nodded, polished a bit more. "I could hear some of what you said to the guy down at the other end of the bar...you seem nice enough."

I laughed briefly, unsure of what to say.

"See that guy in the blue polo over at the table by the wall?"

I looked over. "Yes," I said.

"He's a cop. Off duty. As long as nothing gets really obvious, he's cool. If things get too over-the-top, well, there are enough things that are covered by the law that they can hassle you."

"Thank you," I said, truly grateful.

He nodded and went back to straightening things.

...

Another man sat down beside me after a while.

"Hello," he said. "Do you mind some company?"

"Not at all," I said, turning to him.

He smiled at me, looking slightly nervous: an average looking guy, a trifle overweight, an inexpensive suit--pretty much your picture of a man at a some company convention.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked.

I smiled at him and nodded at the full glass sitting in front of me. "I'm fine, but thank you."

"Oh," he said, "yeah."

"I'm Deborah." Looked expectant.

"Uhh...Joe. Joe Johnson." I grinned inside; well, at least he didn't say John Smith.

He sat there, stymied for a moment, until I helped him along. "Are you looking for a date, Joe?"

"Yes. I mean...well...it depends."

"On what does it depend, Joe?" I asked, smiling encouragingly.

He lowered his voice, leaned in. I leaned in, too, making sure he got a long look at the goodies. It momentarily threw him off stride, causing me to smile. He quickly looked back at my face. "On the price."

"Ah," I said, straightening back up and taking a sip of my drink. I didn't lower my voice to answer, "It's $400 an hour, Joe."

"Oh!" He glanced around, obviously worried that someone would hear. "That's more than I expected. Isn't that really high for here?"

"I don't know, Joe, but it's the number."

His voice dropped back down to a whisper, "What do I get for that?"

"Why, you get my company, Joe." I could see that answer threw him. I could see him trying to figure out what I was saying. Was I offering him anything he wanted? Was I simply saying I'd spend time with him and anything else would be additional? 

I smiled at him and shook my head. "Joe, I don't really think I'm exactly what you're looking for. Thank you for the offer of a drink, but I don't think I'm looking for company after all."

He looked at me, his face showing some frustration at not handling things better but a larger amount of relief at being let off the hook. "Perhaps you're right. I'm going to head out."

"Good bye, Joe."

For most of that conversation, I had been aware of a man sitting several stools away watching us with amused eyes. He glanced after Joe's retreating back, then looked back at me, pulled out the stool next to him and tipped his head in invitation.

I considered him for a moment before gathering my drink and walking over...why I paused, I don't have the slightest idea, unless it was just that I wanted my fill of eye candy before having to talk. I'm telling you, this guy was drop dead gorgeous: Johnny Depp's brother without the mustache. Young, five years younger than I was, if I could judge. Elegant.

I slid onto the seat next to him.

"Hello," he said and...oh my God...even a faintest hint of an accent. Not that overwhelming, fake thing you hear from so many would-be Romeos, just a trace, something that said that, though he had spoken English most of his life, it wasn't his first language.

"Hello," I said.

"I believe you disconcerted our friend a few minutes ago."

I laughed, "Yes, he was a bit surprised at what I had to say."

He laughed with me. "Let me guess, sometimes one can't afford what one wants?" 

I nodded my acknowledgment.

He took a long sip from the glass in front of him, looked back at me, considering. "$300?" he guessed.

"$400, actually." I was enjoying watching his face...any of you would!...and was pleased to see a hint of humor appear there.

"Hmm, indeed. I can see why our friend was startled. That is an unusual number around here." He didn't seem offended, or even uninterested, for that matter. "So...what may I call you?"

"Deborah."

"So, Deborah, what does that number include?"

I smiled, "He asked the same question."

"Ah, but I suspect he asked with the intention of bargaining you down by saying he didn't want that much. I, on the other hand, I'm making sure it is enough. What did you answer him?"

"I told him it included my company."

That startled a rich, warm laugh out of him. "A wonderful answer!" He raised his glass to me in salute. "Let me try, then, as I have some specific ideas."

"$400 an hour. Well, we might go quite late, how about we just call it $3000 for the evening, shall we? "

That was a shock! He was already agreeing to the price...the price I had thought was outrageous for this area...the price I thought was the deterrent from actual problems? Where was this going? To cover my sudden confusion, I just said, "Go on."

He inclined his head, "Yes, I will. I have some rather explicit requirements."

 

"I am not looking for an illusion of romance. In fact, quite the opposite: what I enjoy is the understanding on both our parts that I want your body, am willing to pay for it, and that you will do things merely because I wish for you to do them."

This was a frankness I wasn't expecting but, much as this would have left me cold in real life, at this time and this place, it was exciting to hear. 

"I will treat you civilly, I am not someone whose sexual tastes run to violence, and I expect politeness from you. However, I also expect instant acquiescence, even obedience, as befits our employment relationship.

 "We will go up to my room I will sit on the bed and ask you to undress completely. I do not want some long drawn-out striptease; they usually look rather silly unless the woman is a very accomplished stripper and I assure you I am already interested in what you have to offer. Yet, neither do I want you to just drop your clothes on the floor. Undress gracefully, keeping your eyes on me, accepting that I am watching you. When you are done, come over and remove all of my clothes in the same manner.

"Then use your hands and mouth to tease me to a fever pitch. I wish you to cover every square inch of my body, saving do not take my cock into your mouth for I do not want to come at this point. I am particularly sensitive on my inner thighs and greatly enjoy the sensation of a woman taking my balls into her mouth gently. I will let you when I have had enough of this simply by telling you I want to start fucking.

"At this point, please take one of the condoms you will find on the nightstand and put it on me, then straddle and ride me until I come. Please do not fake any orgasms or porn star moans...I am perfectly content if you feel sexual pleasure, but I don't require it. I believe I shall come rather quickly; when I am done, take the condom off, clean me with a warm washcloth and we shall sip our drinks together while I recover.

"Once I'm ready again, Deborah, I will ask you to place another condom on me, then kneel down on the floor, face down over the bed, with your arms spread out. For the second time, I will take you anally." He paused for a second, waiting for me to demur--I gave him no reaction, just continued to watch his face, sipping my drink. "As I said, my proclivities are not violence, and I will use plenty of lubrication, but I do enjoy enthusiastic anal sex. There are few positions I like more than reaching down, cupping a woman's breasts and drawing her up to me while she reaches over and back to wrap her hands around my neck, all the while I'm buried as far as I can inside her.

"I've reasonable stamina, and also 100mg of Viagra inside me, but perhaps I shall need a small break at this point." He laughed quietly at the little joke. "We shall order some room service to occupy us during moments when I must rest, though I shall ask you to use that beautiful mouth to hasten the process. Let me ask you now to avoid any unpleasantness later, will you do oral bareback?"

I shook my head.

"Ah, I feared you might not. A pity, but I do not fault you for it." He smiled to show that it truly wasn't an obstacle. "Never mind, it may just take a little longer each time, and I do think there will be several 'each times' as the evening continues. Sometimes I shall like them slow and sensuous, you staring into my eyes as I take you; sometimes I shall enjoy simply fucking you until I come, but there shall be several. 

"I must confess, Deborah, my mind has already undressed you and the vision of you naked is quite...provoking." His eyes slid unabashedly down to caress my legs, evident in the short dress that rode up a bit as I sat on the stool, legs crossed...slid up over my hips...smiled as they reached my breasts...before finally coming back to my face.

At this point, I admit I was totally turned on. As he had started describing what he wanted, my confusion about him agreeing to my price and wonder about where this was going were being overlaid with a good old-fashioned case of lust. Here was this gorgeous man sitting here calmly telling me he wanted to take me back to his room and fuck my brains out. He may say he didn't care if I was aroused by what we did, but my mind's prediction about this imaginary scenario was that I'd be screaming in pleasure before many of those 'each times' had passed. As a fantasy, especially one where a bit of sluttiness was a good thing, this was batting 1000.

"We shall continue as we may until midnight, Deborah, then we shall start the second part of the evening."

"The second part?"

"Yes. My tastes in sex are not so limited as those of some other people. At midnight, a friend of mine with like tastes shall join us. A male friend. One act that excites me tremendously is seeing a woman I have paid for taken hard from behind by another while I hold her face in my hands, watching her.

"That excites me so much that, as the act nears its completion, I must push her head down and use her mouth." His eyes glistened as he said this. "The evening will end with the two of us enjoying your body together, all of its openings, in all the permutations there are."

My breath was becoming heavier, my mind caught up in the images, but I knew what I had to do, what the next move was. I put my hand on his wrist, stopping him. "I am very flattered by your obvious interest but," I pushed the tingling feeling in my body away, "I afraid that your desires are somewhat beyond what I am comfortable promising."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid I am. I'm afraid any more than just the two of us is a bit beyond me."

He looked at me for a long moment, then inclined his head in acceptance. "It would only work if you are completely willing," he said. "My particular tastes insist upon your willing awareness that I have purchased the right to use you as I choose within the limits agreed upon."

"I'm sorry," I said.

He smiled, "I am, also, but we are what we are. Oh well, I shall look elsewhere." He tossed back the last of his drink, stood, nodded and walked out of the bar. I needed to get up myself, head to the bathroom for a quick splash of cold water. Despite my refusal, his words had worked me up--I needed my breathing to slow down, the flush to leave my cheeks, the dampness in my panties to calm down.

...

Emerging a while later, I found a man standing in the small hallway that led back to the restrooms. Just an ordinary fellow, dressed comfortably in Dockers and a polo shirt with a loose jacket over them.

"I'm Gene." As a beginning, it was rather abrupt, but I'm sure he was nervous.

"Hi, Gene. What can I do for you?"

"What do you charge?" Definitely abrupt. Should I brush him off like I did Joe? No, I think John had something else in mind with this guy.

"I charge $400, Gene. How does that sound to you?"

"It's too high. I'll pay you $50."

I started to shake my head and walk past him, but he continued, "Please, it will only take ten minutes, five maybe. You don't even need to touch me."

I was off balance now. "I'm confused here. Perhaps we're talking about two different things."

"No. No. We're not. Look...I find you beautiful. I would kill to date someone like you. But...I'm really afraid of disease. Please, don't get mad! It's nothing personal! I'm not saying anything about you. I'm just scared and even a condom doesn't make me feel comfortable. So, I'm not asking you to have sex with me."

"I'm not mad at you, Gene. It's a scary thing." I didn't know where this was going, but I was intrigued now.

"What I want is for you to let me leave, then come out in the parking lot where I'll be in my car sitting by the curb. When I roll down my window, I want you to ask me if I want a date. When I ask what I get for the date, I want you to lean on the car roof, and talk to me through the window; tell me all the things you'd do to me if we went up to the room." He stopped. I waited. He just looked at me expectantly.

"That's it?" I said, "Just tell you a story?"

"Yes," he said, "until I'm done. Then I'll drive away."

"I don't know, Gene. I think that's illegal in this state."

"I'll pay you in here; we can go out right here to the parking lot." He pointed to the side door. "We won't say anything about money; we won't touch; you won't go with me. Talk to me as if it's just a real date; I actually like that better. I've done it before here."

I cocked my head to look at him a moment, considering, having no idea where this was going. Finally, "I need to pay for my drink." I was still uncertain, temporizing.

I stepped out into the room and glanced over to the corner, John was no longer at his table. That surprised me. I looked over at the bar; he wasn't there either. The bartender was standing at the other end, looking at me. He nodded his head, very slightly. Not sure what he meant, I cocked my head in a question. His eyes flicked to the hallway and back, then he gave one of those slight shrug-and-nods that means "it's okay" or maybe "why not?"

In for a penny, in for a pound. I dropped a twenty on the counter next to my drink and walked back to Gene. "What kind of car?"

He smiled, "A blue Saab," and handed me folded bills.

I gave him five minutes and then walked out the side door, seeing a Saab by the curb over to my left, driver side door nearest the curb. I walked over slowly and the windows all slid down--I think he was reassuring me that no one else was in the car. "Hi, what's your name?" I said.

...

I started to talk to him. I was so off balance by this that my mind wasn't able to manufacture a fantasy on the spot, so I cribbed a script from the story I had heard myself just a little bit ago. I changed it as needed to make myself the aggressor, leaving out any references to breaks in the action or to condoms. I wasn't going to actually do these things, so safe sex wasn't an issue.

"Gene, I'm going to have you come up to the room I have here in the hotel. I'll want you to sit on the bed while I start to undress..."

I told him the story, talking him through undressing myself, then undressing him. I got to the point where I was starting to tease him with my mouth when my story faltered for a moment. I saw his hand go down into his lap and fumble around. Oh my God! Was he actually masturbating in front of me? I couldn't be certain; it sure looked like it. The cold water that had hit my face a few minutes ago was completely forgotten as I absorbed the fact that this fantasy was being taken to a whole new level for me.

"Is that all we're going to do?" Gene asked.

I let myself fall back into the mood, "Oh no, Gene, we're certainly not done. At this point, I think maybe I've spent enough time getting you worked up. It's time to fuck." I could see the word pleased him.

"I think I'd like to be on top. I'm going to push you down and ride you until we both come. We're going to fuck for a while, Gene, because I'm not going to let you come too early. I want you to enjoy it for a long time." I continued talking to him, low and urgent, as his breath came faster and faster. As I watched he stiffened and let out a low moan. I continued to encourage him until he leaned forward; his hand came up into sight.

He looked at me for a second, gave a slight smile, then started the car, put it in gear and slowly drove off.

That had been unbelievable!

...

It was getting a bit late when I was approached one more time. I thought he was good looking... perhaps not as heart-melting as Mr. Depp's lookalike had been, but I liked his looks: tall, athletic rather than slender, laugh lines around his eyes. I was partial to the short hair...I thought of my not-so-subtle suggestions to John over the years, always ignored, that he cut that mop of his...the horn rim glasses, three button navy suit, blue oxford button-down shirt worn with the old school tie. I'm a sucker for that preppy look; most of the guys I saw regularly didn't wear it: John and your husband, Mary, have a more modern, New York look in their suits; Claire, Bill wears jeans to work; and the guys in my office were almost always in business casual.

"I was speaking with Tony," he indicated the bartender. "I mentioned that I was looking for some companionship and he said I should make your acquaintance."

"Well, of course any friend of Tony's...," I laughed and stuck out my hand. "I'm Deborah."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Deborah. May I buy you a drink while we discuss things?"

"Well, I think I've had enough to drink. Perhaps we could just settle things now? It's $400 an hour." I was becoming quite blasé about quoting a price for sex now.




Scheherazade Nights Ch. 03



I could tell he was surprised by the price a little, just like the others. I wondered if he'd refuse.

"I have it in the room upstairs. Since you're finished with your drink, let's go up now."

...

As we rode up in the elevator, I looked over at him. "The hair cut looks great on you."

"I thought you'd like it," John said.

- - - - -

"Hah, I knew it had to be John," Mary crowed.

"Duh! We all knew he cut his hair last year. Now be quiet and let her tell the story," said Anne reprovingly.

Mary stuck out her tongue.

- - - - -

"New suit, too."

"Yep. Between that, the haircut, the room, you're turning out to be an expensive date."

I looked at him, smiling but defiant, "If that's some kind of hint about weaseling on the $400, think again. Deborah doesn't give discounts, and she has plans for that money."

He smiled back. "No problem." The door dinged open and he reached out to hold it, motioning me ahead. "After all, for that price, Deborah is going to earn it."

...

When we got to the room, I asked, "May I use your bathroom a minute? I just need to freshen up. Why don't you get comfortable?" I took my large purse and moved toward the bathroom, then turned back, "Oh, and leave the money on the nightstand."

When I came out a bit later, John was sitting in the easy chair, jacket off, tie loose. The room was dimly lit by the table lamps. He looked over and the huge smile that lit up his entire face, as well as the look of desire in his eyes, let me know he liked what he saw. 

The black dress was gone. In its place was a short, black negligee...translucent enough that he could see that the only things under it were the garter belt and stockings. I knew that, even in this dim light, my nipples and the dark triangle between my legs were outlined beneath it. The black stiletto heels completed the picture.

"So, John," I asked in a teasing voice, "what would you like to do?"

His voice sounded a bit hoarser than it had a moment ago. I liked that. "I want it all three ways."

I raised my eyebrows at him and then nodded. I walked over and knelt down in front of him, reaching up to remove his tie. "You can do that in a minute," he said. He caught my hands and moved them to his zipper. "And, Deborah, for that price, I don't wear a condom."

Out of the side of my eye, I could see our reflection in the mirror off to my left, John motionless in the chair, his face gazing down at what I was doing, rapt. I'm not a guy, but I could understand the eroticism in the scene that captured a man's imagination: the curves of a woman's body, her breasts hanging free as she leaned forward; the slow, sensuous movements; the utter intentness of a woman concentrating on nothing but making him feel good; even...if it was something you wanted to read into it...the slight edge of dominance in her kneeling before him. 

I reached up and tucked my hair behind my ear, so I could see my face more clearly. I watched the bright oval the lipstick made of my mouth as it moved on his penis--the entire length disappearing inside, then appearing again on the slow upstroke that dragged my tongue, deliberately soft, against the underside. I can see, as well as feel, the slight catch of breath at the end of each stroke as I let my tongue swirl around the head before plunging back down to repeat the movement.

I paused for a moment, sitting up slightly, my eyes locking on his, my mouth slightly open, my left hand wrapped around him. Deliberately...holding his eyes completely...I reached my right hand down, inside my negligee, and slid a finger between my legs, my arm rocking ever so little as I touched myself, letting him see every movement, letting him see the excitement on my face that mirrored his. Then, still watching him watching me, I lowered my head, mouth opening. Just before my lips made contact, I tore my gaze away and plunged all the way down on him, letting him feel his penis hit the back of my throat and the slight gag contraction, my cheeks hollowing in suction.

I felt the first, involuntary tremors in his legs and slowed my movements, not ready to end this. Wrapping my fingers around him, I slid my tongue down lower, licking the scrotum and then, ever so gently, taking one of his testicles in my mouth, sliding my tongue smoothly around it. Continuing to watch in the mirror, I could see his face take on that tense, ecstatic look. 

I thought I understood that look; something like it was probably on my face those times when I felt his teeth close on one of my nipples while his tongue brushed over it--intense pleasure but having to trust, knowing that just a little more pressure would turn that pleasure to pain, that slight edge of apprehension heightening the sensation. I let him slide out of my mouth, drew my tongue up in a long stroke on the underside of his scrotum, capturing the other one in the mouth. I let the fingers of my free hand, slide up his thigh, then tease and play, careful with the nails, around the side of his anus.

Again I felt the small tremors start and, sitting up, I let him go, reaching up to start unbuttoning his shirt. As his hands came up to help, I captured them in mine, and forced them back down to the arms of the chair, smiling. His shirt open, I pushed it back off his shoulders, exposing his entire torso, then leaned in and let my tongue and lips start a crawl from the base of his penis, up over his stomach, up to his nipples, licking them, flicking them with my tongue. I let my breasts drag over his thighs and abdomen while my hands held his shoulders flat.

I could feel him slide his hips to bring his penis into contact with my stomach. Standing, I took his hands in mine and then carefully placed my knees on either side of his body, straddling him. I brought his hands up to the ties of the negligee at my breast, setting them on the bows, and then reached down, took him in my hand, and slid him into my body. I was so completely ready for this that I felt myself come down on his hips without a wisp of resistance. His breath caught in his throat at the feeling of being engulfed like that and his hands stilled with the ties for a second, then they finished their work and he slid it back off my shoulders, his hands returning to cup my breasts.

Bracing my hands on the back of the chair on either side of his head, I began to ride him: long, slow strokes, not letting him fall out of me. At the bottom of each motion, I would slide slightly back and forth, letting my clit rub across his pubic hair and sending a shiver through my body. I knew he was close to coming, but I was even closer...an entire evening of sexual teasing having excited me almost to a frenzy.

As the contractions started to take my body, I reached one hand behind his head and pulled myself down so that my breasts were in his face. He captured one into his mouth, sucking the nipple fiercely hard and the orgasm washed over me. I felt my body gripping his penis, sending him over the edge, also, and we rode out that long, bucking moment, each gripping the other violently.

As our breathing returned to normal, he started to say something, but I just put my finger to his lips. I slid up off him and went back on my knees. Taking him in my mouth, I tasted myself and the faint bitterness of his semen as I cleaned the aftermath of sex off him.

Standing, I walked over to the mini-bar. I knew he was watching me move and I walked a bit more slowly than usual, making sure to place one foot in front of the other to let my hips sway. I took a glass, dropped a few ice cubes in it, then poured him a Scotch. Turning back, I let him enjoy the view as I walked back and handed him the drink. I crossed to the nightstand and picked up the four bills lying there.

"We're not done, yet; my hour's not up," he said.

"Oh, I know; I remember," I assured him. "Sip your drink, relax and get your breath back; there's plenty of time." I walked back into the bathroom to freshen up.

I took my time in there, cleaning up, repairing the damage to the makeup, fixing my hair. I wanted to look good when I went back out--I wanted him to have a bit of time to recover. I also wanted to put in some lubricant for what was coming next. John and I had only done it once; we'd been a bit awkward about it. This time needed to go better. I decided that the best thing to do was take the advice that had been offered to me earlier.

I walked back into the room went over and bent down. Taking one of his legs in my hand, I slid his shoe and sock off, then did the same for the other leg. Smiling, I grabbed his waistband and with a playful "Up!" I pulled his trousers and boxers down off his legs, folded them and placed them on the table. Placing one knee beside him, I undid the knot in his tie and slid it out of his collar. His hand come up and stroked my hip as I did, then came around and a finger touched my clit before sliding inside, finding me still wet. I just smiled at him, ignoring his play while I worked the shirt off his arms and from behind his back. I stood smoothly, letting his finger come free, capturing his hand in mine, drawing it to my lips and sucking the finger for a second before moving away.

I moved unhurriedly around the room, taking my time. I picked up my discarded lingerie and placed it on the table. Every few seconds, I'd look at him and give a small smile. I ran my hand over the comforter on the bed, found it had a hard, artificial feel, looked at him and wrinkled my nose. I folded it aside, exposing the crisp cotton sheets, ran my hand over them and smiled. I brought two towels out of the bathroom and spread one on the floor at the foot of his chair, the other at the foot of the bed. I brought a small bottle of lubricant out of the bathroom and set it next to him on the floor. John watched these preparations intently without saying a word, just sipping from his drink occasionally.

I looked around the room, surveying to make sure all was how I wanted it, then walked over to him, took the drink out of his hand and set it on the table.

"Slide forward and lean back."

I traced a finger down the length of his penis, which was already starting to stiffen. I took the bottle of lubricant and dripped a couple drops on him, staring at it intently, letting him know I was watching as it swelled. I knew he wanted me to take it in my hand but I teased him a bit first, using a fingernail to trace up and down its length, while my other hand let a couple drops fall on his scrotum. I waited, then smiled at his indrawn breath as the air activated the liquid, generating mild heat. I poured some into my hand and cupped him, letting it cover him, sliding my fist around firmly but not hard, just letting him experience the slick feeling and the gentle warmth.

I stood and set the bottle beside the foot of the bed. I reached over to the table and picked up his glass and took a long swallow, rolling an ice cube around in my mouth, pushing it into my cheeks, letting my tongue show for a moment...letting him make the association with what had been in my mouth a few minutes ago.

He had sat up and was watching me avidly, watching to see what I would do next. I let my eyes go deliberately to the clock on the nightstand, nodded my head, then moved to foot of the bed. Moving as gracefully as I could, almost in slow motion, I knelt down. I placed the drink carefully off to the side and leaned my torso down over the mattress. My arms I stretched wide to my sides, like I was trying to hug the entire bed. I slid my knees apart about a foot and a half. Turning, to look over my shoulder, I stared at him, and just waited.

He took a deep breath and stood. I turned my face downward into the sheet. I felt him kneel down behind me, his hands running over my back, over my ass. I heard him uncap the bottle and a stream of liquid hitting me, sliding down to run between my legs. His hands took the cheeks of my ass firmly, separating them and I felt his penis nudge me, pushing very slowly but inexorably into me.

I tried to relax my muscles, confident he would be as gentle as he could, but knowing I wasn't used to this. I felt the head of his penis pop past my sphincter, momentary discomfort, but no real pain as he stopped moving. He slid forward another inch or so, then pulled back slowly and I felt more drops of lubricant falling on us. In and out, each stroke moving slightly farther, working himself entirely inside me until I felt his testicles push up against me. He slid back, another drizzle of oil, and then I felt his hands move from my ass cheeks to my waist, grasping me just above the swell of my hips as he began to take me. 

He wasn't trying to pound me into the bed but this wasn't some tentative play at anal sex, either...not some "are you Ok with this honey?"...he had paid for Deborah and now he was collecting what he bought...firmly and determinedly fucking me. I knew he didn't care if this was exciting me or not, he was caught up in the fantasy moment himself, intent on the incredible tightness sliding up and down his penis, intent on the sensations that were driving him to his second orgasm. I was surprised at how much I was excited--not by the physical sensation; I was too new to this to be enjoying it, yet--but by the hard grip of his hands on my hips, by the sound of his harsh breathing, by the sheer sexuality of the moment. I loved it.

I felt him push hard into me one last time and then felt his penis pulse inside me as he came. He slumped forward, his hands coming down on either side of me and I completed the image from before by arching my back, pushing up from the bed and wrapping one arm up and backwards around his neck to hold him.

Moments passed, and he slid out of me and sat back on the floor.

I turned and sat with crossed legs, leaning against the foot of the bed. "I think your time is up, John," I said, smiling, "but, since you were a nice boy, I'll let you have the shower first."

...

It was about 10:30. We were lying together in the bed after showering.

John looked at me, "Is is over?"

"Yeah." I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "It was wonderful. Thank you."

"No thanks necessary, ma'am. Please thank Miss Deborah when you see her next. How do you feel?"

I laughed. "Relaxed. Ready for sleep. My bottom is a bit tender."

"Price of doing business," he joked.

I snuggled down into the curve of his arm. "You had some help in this one. Who were the men?"

"What men?" he asked with an innocent face.

I pinched him and made to grab for his crotch. "Okay, okay! Uncle!

"The first guy...Paul? He's my friend Jim from Europe. I told you that you'd meet him someday."

"I thought he lived in Munich?"

"He does, but I thought that would tip you off, so I had him pretend to be from England. He's pretty familiar with it. And he really did study to be an architect before getting into finance, so I thought he could play a good role."

"He did. I didn't know if he was for real or not. Especially because I didn't see you until late."

"I thought that might make you wonder," he grinned, proud of himself. "Jim is staying with us for a few days, so you can tell him what a good job he did."

I sucked in my breath, made a face, "With us?"

John just laughed, interpreting my reactions correctly, "Don't worry; he thought the whole thing was fun and he doesn't know how far it got with the other men. Don't be embarrassed, you can both just laugh about the whole thing.

"The second guy was an acquaintance of mine in the Sheriff's Department. He lives somewhat out this way and didn't mind spending an hour helping out. He thought it was a hoot."

"So, I propositioned a cop is what you're saying?"

"Yes, dear. Very poor discrimination on your part." That earned him another pinch.

"What did you think of the third guy, Deb?"

"Well, he was sexy as hell. I was surprised at how comfortable he was talking with me about specifics."

He smiled. "That's because Carl's in the business. He works for an expensive service as a male escort. I represented him on a traffic problem about a year ago. I got him off with just a warning and he said to give him a call if I ever needed something." 

John chuckled. "I wouldn't have guessed in a million years that I'd ever need his services!"

I sat for a moment, thinking about that. Then, "That fourth guy blew my mind. I never thought things would go that far. That's a whole new level of realism in role play. Who was he?"

John looked at me strangely. "Deb...I've never met that guy in my life."

"What!?!"

"I was going to walk up to you after Carl. 

"I saw the guy go back to the bathroom after you, but I didn't think anything of it. I could just see a bit down that hall from where I was sitting. Then I saw him come up to you and wasn't sure exactly what was going on. So I asked Tony."

"Tony? The bartender was in on this?"

"No, not really. I had come in earlier and talked to him, mentioned that I was hanging around watching out for a friend--no specifics. He probably put me with you once you got there, but I think he thought I was your pimp or something.

"Anyway, I went up to him quickly and asked what he knew about that guy. He told me the guy was a regular, came in every week or two looking for some woman to talk dirty to him. He assured me the guy was pretty harmless."

"You didn't know him? And I went outside with him." I asked again, in disbelief.

"Sweetie, the whole time you were by his car, Ray...the guy from the Sheriff's Office...and I were standing fifteen feet away behind the bushes. Ray carries a gun. If that guy had tried one single thing, he'd have been in a world of hurt.

"I could tell you were enjoying your evening. I wasn't going to break the mood if I didn't have to. And, as you said, it gave a whole new level of realism."

I sat silent for a moment, then began to laugh. "I can't believe it! What a story that is!" 

Then a thought stuck me. "Oh my God! I actually performed a sexual service for money. I actually turned a trick!"

- - - - -

The girls sat, speechless.

Finally, Claire said, absolutely deadpan, "I think I might need to be alone for a while."

With that, the chatter broke out...most of it along the lines of "I can't believe it!" and "that was unbelievably hot!"

Debbie felt pleased with herself. As the telling had gone on, she had found herself becoming comfortable with it, losing herself in the story, turned on just like the others in the remembered eroticism. She looked over at Anne, giggling to Mary with shining eyes and knew that the melancholy was pushed away again.

Maggie shook herself, looked around and then stood up. "I had plans for next Wednesday but, as of this moment, they are cancelled. There's no way I'm missing this meeting ever again. Now I know how that shah felt listening to Scheherazade tell the 1001 tales!

"Who wants a drink?"



Scheherazade Nights Ch. 04



* * Thursday Night * *

John got home late that night; things were busy at work. Debbie was reading in bed when he came in. She could see he was tired and moved around behind him, massaging the muscles at the base of his neck.

"I was going to jump your bones," she said teasingly, "but I can see that you'd be worthless." She bent around and gave him a kiss and a smile to make sure he knew she was kidding.

"Sorry, hon, I'm pooped," he replied.

"All right, bud; you get a pass tonight. But don't think you're weaseling on Saturday," she said, laughing.

He grinned...tired, half-hearted, but a definite grin. Lopsided, though, almost awkward.

"Hehe, are you nervous, my dear?" she asked in her best...which was terrible...Russian accent, twirling an imaginary mustache and leering at him.

"More than you realize." He gave her the odd grin again, his eyes not meeting hers, flipped out his light and slid down under the sheets.

Debbie leaned back, her eyebrows raised. That had been a peculiar response. They were each slightly nervous before the other's fantasy days, of course. Who wouldn't be? But, still, it was usually more of an excited nervousness, one that made them horny more than anything else. They had been doing this for a while and, with that one exception, things had gone well...startling and jittery sometimes...but well. Was he having second thoughts?

She reached over and laid a hand on his shoulder. "John? Is there something bothering you about Saturday?"

John rolled back and looked at her, thinking. Finally, "You left the box in the den a couple of days ago. It didn't have any name on it, and was just folded shut, so I looked in it." He paused a moment. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to snoop; it didn't occur to me that you had left stuff like that out. It was just a 'what's this?' moment."

She sighed. The collar and manacles set and all the other stuff from the party. Claire had dropped them off a couple of days ago and she had set them aside and momentarily forgotten about them while they chatted over a glass of tea. Then John had come home and Claire said she had to leave--she had walked Claire out to her car and the two had talked for another ten minutes.

She looked at John now, trying to think what she should say, if anything. 

He spoke first, "Deb, it's no big deal. I'm not sure how much desire I really have in that direction--I get a little spasm of, I don't know, almost claustrophobia thinking about having that on. But, well, it's your day and...hon...it really doesn't freak me out; it just makes me nervous. I'm game. I trust you," he leaned up and gave her a kiss on the cheek as he said that. "Really!"

She looked at him for a moment, then leaned in and kissed him soundly. "I love you. It will be fine, you'll see."

He nodded and curled back to get some sleep.

* * Friday Night * *

Friday wasn't so good. When Debbie got home that night, John was already home, sitting in the den, looking a little grim.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi, hon. Got a moment? I'd like to ask you something." 

She sat.

"Today Laura was in my office giving me some papers. I made some comment about the week totally sucking, and how glad I was that it was Friday, and how I just wanted to go relax. 

"Then she said to me, 'Maybe you could ask Debbie if Deborah could help you relax?' and then gave me this grin," he finished, staring at her. "I don't really want to jump to conclusions but it seems somewhat obvious. Did you tell her about Fremont?"

Debbie got wide-eyed. "Yes, I did. I told the story on Wednesday night."

"Debbie!..." his voice was filled with frustration.

"John, you said I could!"

"What?!?"

"You said I could tell the girls about my second one and the Fremont."

John thought about that for a minute. "I thought you were talking about just Claire, Mary and Anne."

"Oh..."

"I guess I misunderstood," he said.

Now it was Debbie's turn to sigh. "Since I told all of them about The Game the previous Wednesday, I didn't realize you meant...I guess I should have made sure we were clear. Oh hell!" She stared around. "I'm so sorry, John! How bad is this? I know she works with you..."

"Not with me...for me. She's been assigned to me for a case I'm working on. Now I've got someone reporting to me who is hearing sexual fantasies from my wife. I don't even want to think about where this could go if there was a harassment suit."

"Oh shit!"

They sat there in silence for a while, neither sure what to say. Finally, Debbie asked, "Where do we go from here, John? I didn't mean to cause any problems and I really thought you said it was okay."

"I understand." Silence.

"And I don't think Laura is going to cause any problems. It doesn't seem like her and you said she seemed just to be making a joke?"

"Maybe you're right. I guess I'll find out." Silence.

"Are you angry?" she asked.

"Yes." Silence.

"At me?" she asked in a small voice.

He was quiet a moment, sighed. "I don't know. I was ten minutes ago, for sure. Now," he looked around the room, "it seems mostly we weren't real clear about what each other was saying...no one person's fault, I guess. I'm just mad at the situation."

She sat watching him. "Do you want to quit playing? This was one of the things we wanted to avoid--I understand if you want to."

"Honestly, I don't know." He met her eyes, "I like playing, Deb: not only is it fun in itself, but I kinda like how things are going with the 'us' part of it.

"But, I can't let work go south over it. If this blows up--let's just say that my mood now will look calm and pleasant in comparison."

"Can we figure out a way to fix all this?" she asked.

"Maybe, but I need to think about it over the weekend. On that subject, about tomorrow," John began...paused...continued, "I don't know."

He said, kind of stumbling over his words, "It's like this. I'm not exactly in a loving and trusting mood right at the moment. I know I said I'm mad at the situation but part of me is still reacting to you. And, what you have planned needs...well...," he shook his head in frustration, "...the thought of being...I just really don't want to do it right now!"

"John...," she started.

"No, wait. Look, I'm not saying I want to stop The Game. I know tomorrow is yours fair and square. And I know that it's not your problem whether I want to do something. But, unless your plan was always to have me really be unwilling, I think you'd have a better time if I wasn't resentful."

He looked at her defiantly, "I really don't want to do something like that right now and I'd like you to postpone it--but you're the boss."

She walked over and sat down on the arm of his chair, putting her arms around him. "John, if you want tomorrow cancelled, I will. But, I think you have the wrong idea about what it's going to be like."

"What do you mean, wrong idea?" he interrupted. "Unless you're telling me that this is some kind of submissive fantasy and I'm going to be putting you in that collar, I think I have a good idea."

Did she tell him? She didn't want to. "John, bottom line. If you want me to postpone, I will. If you want me to get everything pre-approved with you, I will. 

"But, I don't really want to tell you about the day," she said; he rolled his eyes at that. "I believe you will have fun, and that it will be better if we just go ahead like I planned. Will you trust me?

"If I'm wrong, and you hate it from the first moment, you can tell me you don't want to do it and we'll stop. You can tell me what an insensitive bitch I am. We can fight and maybe have makeup sex...or not...but, either way, you can stop it. Please?" she said, making a pleading face, trying to get a smile back.

"Oh, you want me to lose my points?" he asked, a little black humor the best he could do.

"No, no points lost because I would have been screwing with this being playful. You asked me not to do this and I won't hold it against you. Rule #1.

"Please, I think you'll enjoy it more than you know. Trust me?"

* * Saturday Night * *

Sex was great.

* * Sunday Night * *

"Do you want me to call Laura?" she asked.

"I need to talk to her first. I'm the one with the work problem. You can talk to her after, if you want."

* * Monday Night * *

"Did you talk to her?"

"Well, actually, she talked to me first. As soon as I got in, she was in my office saying she felt she needed to apologize, that she realized later she had been totally out of line and had probably made me very uncomfortable. 

"She said she'd never even have thought of saying anything if there had been anyone around, but that she slipped with just the two of us, wanting to make me laugh. I could tell she was really upset at herself.

"We talked about it for a while. I made it pretty clear how big a deal this was for me; she made it pretty clear how horrified she was at the slip.

"By the way, she hoped that you and she were still friends and she'd apologize to you in person this week."

Debbie waited, then said, "How do you feel about what she said?"

"A lot more comfortable than I did yesterday."

* * Tuesday Night * *

"We do need to figure this all out, Deb."

She looked at him questioningly.

"The stories. Seven women know. That's a lot if you want something kept secret."

"I'll stop saying anything. No problem; it's done." She nodded sharply once, then turned back to making coffee.

He sat, toying with remains of dinner on his plate, "Be honest with me, Deb. If you could have it any way you wanted, what would that be? Would you keep telling them?"

"Not if it hurts us," her answer was quick and definite.

"But, leave that aside. Would you want to tell more?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"Why?"

It was her turn to be quiet for a while. "A couple of reasons, I guess. Part of it is that it did help Anne; she really has perked up. You've seen that." He nodded.

"Part of it is that the girls were having fun." 

Pause...finally, "But, really, those are just small parts. I guess the major thing is that I simply enjoyed it. It was kind of a turn on for me to do it, once I got over my embarrassment.

"So, to answer your question," she turned and looked at him, "if there were no larger issues, yes, I'd keep doing it. But, there are larger issues; we can't ignore them. So, I stop. John, there was never even a question about it--I would have always stopped--in a heartbeat."

He stirred for a bit. "It's awkward for me. Keith was busting my chops the other day, fishing for dirt."

"Is it causing problems with them?"

"No, just some teasing. They are curious though. He said that he and Bill wanted to put together a guy's poker game and have me tell stories about you."

Debbie looked alarmed.

"Yes, unnerving, isn't it: the thought of some guys talking about your sex life behind your back?" he asked, looking at her, not without some satisfaction. "Now you know how it feels."

"John," she said with trace of sadness, "I've always understood."

He sort of shrugged; she put her hands on his shoulders, looking at him.

"Look," she stared over his head for a moment, trying to find the right words, "if you were talking about the two of us to the guys, you'd be sitting there, comfortable with your buddies, judging what to say, gauging your own comfort level. Meanwhile, I'd be sitting here, wondering how they were seeing me, hoping you didn't say anything that would embarrass me. Right?"

He gave a noncommittal nod.

"If you wanted to do that, I'd have to figure out how big those feelings of insecurity were--minor things I could live with or major things that would cause me to say no--or if I had any boundaries I needed in place for it.

"If I can feel it, then I can also turn that feeling around, switch places. You'd respect my needs, right? So, I respect yours. Where's the problem? If this is something you have an issue with, end of story."

He looked frustrated. "But, I know that, somehow, this has become important to you...," he continued.

"It is NOT important to me," she interrupted. "YOU are important to me! This is just another bit of fantasy that I think I will enjoy...but that I can also live without!"

Paradoxically, this reassured him, made him more comfortable.

"In fact, just think about it that way," she continued, "as one of the fantasies. Just like any other fantasy, if it's not something you can do, it doesn't happen. Those have been our rules since the beginning."

He considered that. "I have some insecurities about how they'll see me, yes. I'm also worried about public perception, especially at work. I just don't want to be embarrassed."

"Okay." She sat down with him. "If you decide it's too much, just say so to me. If you decide you need boundaries, maybe you should say that to them?"

"Maybe."

"Who are you worried about? How about Claire, Mary and Anne?"

"Quite honestly, I never really had a big doubt about those three being discreet. Not only are they our friends, but I asked Bill and Keith pointblank. They said the girls refused to say anything. I took some ribbing on that, but it made me feel better." He shook his head. "Yeah, they blab amongst your group, but not outside."

She nodded. "Laura?"

"No, not after Monday. No, it's the other three, Deb."

"Okay."

* * Wednesday Night * *

"So, what are you going to tell us this time, Debbie? You told us about your first three, if you count the romantic date as one...let's hear number four." asked Anne.

"Actually, the last one wasn't number three; there were a couple between the second one and it. But, I'm not telling a story tonight..." She held up her hands at the immediate protests. "Listen to me!"

She and Laura exchanged a glance. They had talked earlier, Laura apologizing profusely. "There was a big misunderstanding between John and me about who I could tell what." So, she recounted the problem. There were glances at Laura, who apologized again. 

"It's not Laura's fault! If she hadn't said something that let John know, the problem would still have been there, just hidden. It's my bad; don't you dare blame her!"

She looked around at the group. Laura's face was upset; Heather's held mostly disappointment; her closest friends looked concerned. She turned to her friend, "Anne, we started this partly to keep your mind off things and I know you want me to keep going, but..."

"I know," Anne said quietly. "You never said it explicitly, but I knew why you were doing it and I was grateful. Believe me. You're the best friends I can imagine. And, because you're my friends, I don't want anything bad to come of it. If you want to stop telling stories, then stop. Your marriage is more important."

"It's not about whether I want to tell stories. John needs to feel secure; that's the only criterion that matters. He'd like to stop by later."

"Of course he should talk to us and, if he's not comfortable, it ends," said Claire decisively. "There's no question of that. Tell him to come on over.

"Who wants to order pizza?"

...

"Not only do I not want to be a laughingstock in the community or at work because something got repeated...kinda goes without saying...but I don't want to have Bill or Keith, or one of you...some friend...look at me and say, 'Seriously, that was pretty fucked up what you did.' 

"I don't want to turn around one day and find your eyes judging me."

Claire answered quietly and sincerely. "John, I guess I'll try to be the spokesman here. 

"We've all been talking. On the first point, we're all agreed that nothing is ever repeated, not to spouses, not to anyone. You've known me, and some others, a lot of years and I think we've become good friends. I hope you'll take our word for it. The others, well...everyone has promised. Those of us you know believe them or they wouldn't be here, but you'll have to make up your own mind on them; we understand that.

"On the second issue, I'm really speaking for myself." She looked at him earnestly, "I've known you a lot of years. At the risk of giving you a swelled head, I'm pretty convinced that you're a great guy. More importantly, Debbie thinks you're the greatest guy on the planet and I think the absolute world of her. So, not only do I doubt that anything you two have done, or will do, is really going to totally freak me out...but, even if you do surprise me, it's not going to change the fact that I think both of you are good people."

Anne and Mary nodded in agreement. Maggie spoke up, "Just the fact that you two are spending so much energy on not hurting each other means you'd pretty much have to be chasing grade schoolers to get me thinking you're a creep."

* * Thursday Night * *

"Vi called me today."

Debbie looked at John in surprise.

"She convinced me about her."

Debbie wrinkled her brow in puzzlement, "What did she say?"

"It was private; hers to tell if she wants." Debbie's eyebrows rose at that, but she accepted it.

* * Friday Night * *

"Claire says Maggie will drop out for those nights if she's the problem. She doesn't want to, but she understands."

John looked at her. "Interesting."

* * Saturday Morning * *

John bumped into Anne again. 

"We've got to stop meeting like this," he laughed. "Debbie will begin to suspect."

She smiled.

"Anne, what's your take on Heather?"

"Will she keep her word, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Well, my take is that she thinks this is the greatest thing to ever happen to her and she won't do anything to louse it up." She leaned forward and gave John a kiss on the cheek. "Whatever you decide, you're still A-1 in my book."

* * Sunday Night * *

"Okay. I'd like to know which stories you're going to tell, just...well...to know. 

"And, even if I forget to say something about a part I might have a problem with, please don't tell..." he stopped at the slight look of hurt on her face, "...never mind. I trust you, hon," and gave her a kiss.

* * Wednesday Night, a week * *

Debbie flopped into a chair, looking around at the expectant faces. John had headed out to meet some friends to let the girls have some room.

"We can do this." 

A lot of smiles. Heather clapped her hands, "Hooray!"

"One thing beyond the obvious. I don't want to do this every week. I feel I need to talk over stories with him first, make sure he's okay with them."

"Of course!" said Claire, as if she couldn't imagine it any other way, which she couldn't.

"And doing it weekly is just too rushed."

"How about once a month?" Anne suggested. "We could have the monthly Scheherazade Night and the rest of the weeks could be just like before."

Everyone nodded, some perhaps a little reluctantly, but with good grace all around.

"But we start tonight?" Heather asked hopefully. 

Everyone, including Debbie, laughed. "Okay, let me figure out where to start."

"What was the most romantic one you ever picked?" Mary suggested.

"Actually, the one that got to me the most in that way was one of John's," she said, absolutely astonishing her friends.

"Tell us that one, then."

"Umm, no. His are kind of off limits while he gets used to this." She saw a couple looks of puzzlement. "Put it this way: you're a guy, you participate in a fantasy...maybe it's sappy romantic or a bit kinky, doesn't matter. Question--which is more embarrassing: that you did it because you secretly wanted to do it, or that you did it to humor your wife who secretly wanted to do it?"

Faces cleared. "Got it," Anne said, "We cut the guy some slack. But, tell him we're all interested in this romance thing...I mean, who would have thought the Y chromosome could do that!" Everyone laughed again.

Claire spoke up, a wicked little grin on her face, "Okay, I'm still curious about the stuff from the Fuckerware party. That was one of yours."

Debbie's face lit up. "Last Saturday?"




Scheherazade Nights Ch. 04



"Yeah."

The wicked grin was on Debbie's face now. "The leather collar and cuffs that I said were for me? You probably didn't see, but there were also ankle cuffs, this wicked belt with fasteners on it, and some chains...sure, I'll tell you about that day!"

"You will?" Claire said, a bit surprised.

"Did I mention some kind of nipple clamps, a blindfold and a whip...Margery didn't show us those, but I asked her and she got them for me."

"Debbie!"

"You probably want me to pull down my pants and let you see the welts on my ass from the spankings."

"Oh my God, Debbie, now I know you're shitting me!" Claire said.

"Hehe, about the spankings, yes I am. But the rest...no, I'm not."

Her friends just looked at her, dumbfounded.

"Oh, the look on your faces! I should just string you along on this, but I won't..."

- - - - -

I felt John get out of bed, heard the toilet flush and the shower start up. He came out a while later in just his boxers.

"Is there any reason I should bother putting on any clothes?" he asked. His voice had an edge...not all the way to sullen, but certainly not happy. I knew he was thinking about the things he had seen and was a little unnerved at the thought of me using them on him. But I also knew that the real cause of his mood was that he was thinking about the fact that he had asked me to put this off. He just wasn't in the right frame of mind--playful, trusting, confident--that might allow him to view what he thought was coming as an adventure.

I debated...again...telling him about the day. On one hand, the surprise was a part of it and his misconceptions might actually make the surprise a bit bigger. On the other, I wanted him to have fun today, too, and that meant I couldn't leave him thinking he was heading for some bondage thingy.

I got up, gave him a hug, keeping morning breath turned away from him. "Of course you should get dressed. We're going out later. Nice slacks and a dress shirt would be perfect." I leaned back and pinched his chin between my fingers. "I know you think you have an image of what today is going to be, and I know you're not happy about it because you're still angry from yesterday. So, listen! 

"I don't want to tell you about today until it starts, but I'm asking you to just go with the flow and trust me that it's not what you think. Will you do that? I love you very much and I'm not going to ruin your day."

Eventually, he nodded. "Love you, too," he said, not happy, but meaning it.

...

We drove out to Rosemont to a place I had found on the Web. I had talked to the owner a couple of weeks ago. I had driven out last weekend to check out the place, meet the owner and drop off things. I took John in through the back door... 

- - - - -

"Actually," Debbie said, "I think I'm telling this wrong."

"Well, you haven't told us anything so far!" Anne laughed.

"Hardy har har, aren't you the funny one!" Debbie wrinkled her nose. "Seriously, if you want to know what this was like, I think I need to tell the first part of it from John's perspective."

"John's? But this was your fantasy, right?" Claire asked.

"Yup!"

"Hmm..."

"Should we get John back here to tell it?" Anne asked.

"Yeah, like that's going to happen!" Debbie laughed. "He's hightailed off to the movies with the guys.

"Anyway, I know how it went for him and I found out what he was thinking later, so..."

- - - - -

...Debbie took me through the door into this dimly lit room. It was fairly large, maybe 30 or more feet across to another door. To my right was a large curtain hung from the ceiling. She led me over to a chair, next to a big video screen, and sat me down.

"Relax." 

"John, have you ever had a fantasy where you didn't think the reality would match the imagination?"

I nodded. Of course, hadn't everyone on the planet?

"Okay." Her hands went up to her blouse and she started to unbutton it. She saw how much this disconcerted me and smiled, her fingers continuing down the front. 

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Getting ready. There's a fantasy I've had since I was about 20 years old." I saw a sheer red bra peek out from below the blouse. "I've never regretted not trying it at the time; the reality would have been a mistake. However, I've also never forgotten it."

"Sophomore year, two years before we met..." Her hands went to the waistband of her skirt, opening the snap and sliding the zipper down, letting it drop to the floor. Red panties also.

"Recruiters came..." She shrugged the blouse off her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor also. 

"Playboy recruiters. Today, I'm going to do the photo shoot I was apprehensive of doing then...and you're going to get to watch."

She raised her voice, "Liz?" and a woman came out from behind the curtain: dark hair, slender, maybe about 40, friendly looking. "This is my husband, John. John, this is Liz. She's a photographer who does mostly boudoir work. It's her studio."

Liz walked over to me and shook my hand as I stood up. "Hi, John. Debbie and I have talked a bit and I think I know what she wants, including that you get to enjoy the show. It's not often the guys are here, but we can certainly go along with that and I think you'll have fun. Especially with the types of photos Debbie has asked for." She grinned as she said that.

"Nice to meet you." I was too surprised to offer much more than that. The little twinkle in her eye let me know she understood.

"Here's how it will go. Debbie is going to come with me for a moment and let the makeup people give her the right look. After that, we'll do the first set of shots. Then she'll change and we'll do the second, and so on.

"Poke your head in here a second." She pulled open the curtain and I saw a photography set. To the left the wall was covered in a flowing white scrim, to the right a bright green, curved screen that came down and covered the floor, also. Lots of lights. There was a love seat in front of the white scrim and various other props shoved into the corners, including a bed, a wooden bench and various boxes of stuff I couldn't make out.

"When I take a picture, the camera sends it over to that computer via Wi-Fi," she said, pointing to a desk at the side of the set, "where it gets evaluated, a background added if we use the green screen.

"If we think the picture is a keeper, we will then send it to the monitor out there where you can see it. There will be arrow buttons you can click to scroll back and forth as we get a bunch. Good so far?"

I nodded.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to ask that you don't poke your head in or call out while we're shooting. I find that women look better when they're focused on me and the staff, not distracted by things outside the set."

"I understand."

"Okay then. We'll have drinks on the table out there in a moment; the men's room is just outside that door--there will be about 15 minutes between sets of photos if you need a break." She smiled and ducked through the curtain.

Debbie looked at me, "We okay to do this today?"

"Yes," I smiled.

"Good!" She slipped through the curtain, then stuck her head back out. 

"Enjoy the show!" she mouthed silently, winked, and followed Liz.

...

Indistinct voices murmured to each other for a bit, then I saw the lights flash behind the curtain. They flashed a few more times, voices talking continuously. No pictures yet. More flashes.

A picture appeared on the monitor. Debbie as I'd last seen her, red bra and panties, with the addition of red spike heels and lipstick, draped back across the arm of the love seat. Her face was tilted back, hair draping down the side, one arm trailing to the floor, the other resting on the back, rear foot bent and resting on the other arm of the love seat, front leg fallen down to the floor in abandon. Her eyes were lidded, mouth slightly open. 

The background was shades of light gray, the chair a darker counterpoint beneath her...the only real color in the picture her body and the red she was wearing.

A woman who had just had sex...no, she had too many clothes on...a woman dreaming about having sex.

Flash!

The same pose, but now a hand cupped a breast.

Flash!

The other hand creeping down into the upper band of her panties.

Flash! Flash!

More images filled the screen.

There was a pause.

Flash!

Now on her stomach, cheek on the arm of the chair, face turned toward the camera. Bra gone, breasts pressed against the seat, flattening toward the viewer, front arm gripping the underside of the seat, back arm lost to view.

Flash!

Face curled down to the shoulder, brow furrowed in concentration.

Flash!

Eyes open now, staring out, but not really seeing, mouth wide open...as if panting.

Flash! Flash!

The voices stopped. I stared at the last image on the screen: still face down, body limp and soft, eyes staring straight out of the picture, both arms reaching down beneath her body, slid inside her panties.

Laughter. Liz stepped through the curtain, a book in her hand. "Well?" she asked with a smile.

"Wow!"

"Hehe, she did well. It took us a couple pictures for her to relax enough but she was much easier to work with than many people. Are you having fun out here?"

"Umm, I think 'Wow!' pretty much sums it up!"

 She laughed. "Good!"

She held up the book. "You have a job during breaks.

"We do various things with the pictures. Some customers want a single big picture for their husband to hang in their bedroom. Others want a bunch of digital images on disk. One woman even wanted us to put together all the files for a Web site. She uploaded them, put a password on it and then gave her husband his own, private porn site." She laughed, "I liked that one. I may start advertising it.

"Anyway, Debbie wants a magazine. Once she picks the final images, we'll have them printed up and bound by a guy who does glossy stuff for corporate printings." She saw the hesitant look on my face. "Don't worry; I've worked with this printer for over a decade. He's totally discreet and, even so, I'm literally standing there the whole time it's done, making sure everything is erased once it's finished. I've done this before and I'd never risk ruining my business.

"Debbie picked a couple of scene types that she wants to do. She'd like you to pick one more that you really want. This is a gallery book showing samples." She showed me dividers with names like Glamour, Elegant, Naughty, Vintage, Playful. "It's not a specific picture you're looking for, since we may not be able to take that exact one, depending on what props are here and what clothing she brought. Look for a general mood. For example, the ones you just saw would be similar to these." She turned to a section labeled Indulgent; I saw eight or ten pictures, all conveying a mood similar to the one I had just seen.

"Is she going to end up in this book?"

"Don't worry. Some of those are professional models. Some are staff here. Most are pictures I'm really happy with of ordinary women like Debbie. But no one...absolutely no one...goes in that book unless I've gotten a written, signed release from them for each specific picture. Same for anything on my Web site or photos hung out front."

"Okay. Which did she choose already?"

She smiled and shook her head, "She wants to surprise you a bit. Make a list of five or six in order. Cross off any that come up. We'll use the top one left at the end."

I nodded and started at the beginning of the book.

...

I paged through the book, making entries on a list, crossing them off as ones I liked better showed up. I saw a section called Dark Desires, my mind recalled the equipment I had seen a couple days ago and my apprehension about it. I laughed. 

I looked at the first photo there, past the dark eye shadow and mascara and the brilliant lipstick. Shook my head with a touch of surprise.

More lights got turned on behind the curtain. I heard some stuff being dragged around.

Flash!

It must have been shot in front of the green screen. A background had been added using a computer.

Nothing coy about this one. Debbie lay on the beach towel, sand all around her, other figures blurred in the background, sunning herself, topless.

Flash!

On her stomach, leaning up on her elbows reading a book, breasts hanging down delightfully, bare bottom.

Flash!

Sitting up, one breast glistening, the hand rubbing oil on the other.

Flash! Flash!

Leaning back on one elbow, other hand shading her eyes as she looked up at whoever was talking to her, sand coating her breasts from where she had laid in it, legs slightly apart, back one cocked.

...

A break. "Half an hour!" I heard Liz call. Maybe it takes time to get oil off, I thought and smiled. I took the opportunity to hit the head and get another cup of coffee, stretch my legs a bit.

...

Flash!

I laughed, and crossed Playful off my list.

A library? Books covering the wall, dimly lit by a floor lamp. Rich carpet on the floor. Leather chair in the background.

Blue blazer with crest on the pocket, white shirt, plaid skirt...definitely shorter than would have been allowed!...white thigh high stockings, pumps that were definitely big girl but had the Mary Jane patent leather look.

Flash!

Right side view, the blazer discarded, blouse unbuttoned a couple, weight on her left leg, right bent very slightly, head peering down as her left hand reached over and held up the side of her skirt, the right hand adjusting her stocking. Flash of some brightly striped panties, playful colors...probably frowned on by the nuns.

Flash!

Closer now, waist up only. Eyes looking directly into the camera. Blouse unbuttoned down to where it disappeared into the skirt, the inner curves of breasts peeking out through the opening.

Flash! Flash!

Bent over the desk, eyes peering back over her shoulder. Playful, indeed!

... 

Flash!

The image I had been half-expecting for a while showed up. Kneeling, legs apart, corset, stockings and heels. Scarlet lips, eyes heavy with dark shadow. Breasts bare, the dark hair between her legs exposed, wrists encased in cuffs locked to the collar so that her hands were held behind her head. Back straight, shoulders and elbows back, mouth open, staring straight ahead, vulnerable.

Long pause. Flash!

Still kneeling, arms stretched upward and outward by chains attached to the wrists, ribs raised, breasts thrust forward by the motion.

Long pause. Flash!

Standing straight, legs spread with knees stiff. The corset gone, replaced with a cupless leather bra that lifted her breasts, almost presenting them, red tassels attached to her nipples. Fishnet stockings, eyes hidden behind a blindfold, wrists fastened to a belt at her waist.

Long pause. Flash!

I stared at the last picture. I hadn't heard a sound, so I knew...would have known anyway, regardless of whether I could hear or not...knew it was just makeup...but it was still a powerful image.

Shadowed. A view three quarters from the back, from just below the shoulder blades to mid-thigh. Arms curled behind her back, fastened with cuffs separated by a short chain. Across one cheek of her bottom, a red line, straight as an arrow. Forming the foreground corner of the picture, a hand...feminine, long nails, delicate...holding a riding crop.

I stared at it--surprised, disturbed...was that a tiny bit of dark arousal at my center?...disturbed.

...

Liz came out a few minutes later, looked at me. 

"Whew!" I said.

"Yeah," she said. "It's a very powerful visual, no matter what your tastes are. Debbie will have to decide how much she wants printed." She laughed, lightening the mood, subtly reassuring me and herself, "Everyone gets the whole package of those feelings every time we do that kind of shoot...we just call it Ira...for Ids Run Amok."

"Debbie's in scrubbing off that makeup. Do you have your list?" I handed it to her. She looked at it. 

"I see your first is crossed off," she said mischievously, her face letting me know it was all a tease. "Why am I not surprised?" 

I grinned, a bit self-consciously...it had been Playful. She winked at me. Then I smiled at her, winked back, and let her gallery book flip open to the first Dark Desires page...her face staring out above the studded collar...raised my eyebrow.

"Okay, okay," she laughed, "you win!"

"You're not alone in that choice, anyway. More women ask for Playful photos than you can believe. So, what's next?" 

She looked at my second choice, still not crossed off, read the note by it that described what had not been in her gallery book. "I like that. In fact, that would make a great cover."

Flash! Flash!

Black background. Debbie sitting on a floor you can't see, facing directly into the lens, the bold makeup gone, replaced with soft colors. Her legs are pulled in, knees together, upright straight in front of her, her arms wrapped around them. On her head is a bridal veil, in her hands a bouquet of flowers, the rest of her is naked. It's all suggestion, nothing is visible...the ankles, legs and flowers carefully, oh-so-barely, blocking sight lines. She was beautiful.

...

Liz stuck her head out. "John, would you come in for a moment?"

I walked in; there was another woman standing there; Debbie was nowhere to be seen. "We have one more shot to do. It's going to be the centerfold of the book. The picture she'd like to do has you in it. You game?"

I was surprised. "Ummm, what is it?"

"All you have to do is stand over there," she pointed to the green screen, "and let her kiss you," she smiled. "Okay?"

"I guess."

"Good. Go with Amanda here and she'll get some makeup on you so you don't look washed out.

...

When I came back, "Stand right here. Hold this in your left hand. When she reaches you..."

...

I saw her walk in from behind a curtain in the corner. 

High heels but, otherwise, naked as the day she was born. A wicked little grin on her face. Totally relaxed. She came up to me and said, her voice low and husky, "Hi, honey," stepped in closer, hip bumping mine, hands reaching out to touch me as her lips came up. 

I saw the lights starting to strobe, then they faded from my awareness as her mouth touched mine and her tongue snaked between my lips.

...

Her lips broke away as I heard Liz say, "Yep, that'll do!"

Debbie glanced down at the front of my pants, giggled a little, kept her body between me and the camera, whispered, "Maybe you need a moment," then out loud, "Liz, we'll go get the makeup off."

I looked over; Liz and Amanda had their heads politely turned away, looking at the computer screen. Liz said over her shoulder, "Debbie can show you where the cold cream and wipes are."

...

I looked at the picture. I was standing there, just inside the doorway, briefcase in my left hand, my right arm curved around her waist, holding the small of her back...a man just home from work. 




Scheherazade Nights Ch. 04



She stood...hips rocked into mine...right leg bent upward at the knee...back just barely arched so that her breasts only slightly flattened against my shirt front...right hand resting open on my left arm, held low so as not to obscure the beautiful side curve of her breast...left hand snaked up and around my head, pulling me down into the kiss...head tilted...mouth clearly open against mine. Welcome home, honey.

It was all I could do not to need another moment alone.

- - - - -

Debbie stopped, "I need another drink. Who wants one?"

Unlike the previous week, the reaction wasn't one of astonishment. They were animated, excited, turned on a little, but there wasn't that undercurrent of amazement this time. Debbie wasn't surprised. She and Claire had talked over the Playboy thing at the time; Claire had considered it briefly, too. She also knew that Anne had let Sam take a few photos of her au natural at a beach in the Caribbean, maybe other times. 

They might not all have it, but being in sexy photos was a common fantasy.

"So, did it all end there?" Mary wanted to know.

"Are you kidding?" Debbie laughed. "John had enough images in his head to make any dozen men horny."

- - - - -

Liz handed us a disk. "Here are the images. Debbie, look them over, pick the ones you want for the layout and give me a call later in the week." She turned to John. "It was nice to meet you, John. I had fun; I hope you did, too."

"Oh yes!"

...

"Are we broke?" he asked.

"No. It was a little expensive but," I smiled, "Deborah's earnings paid for a chunk of it."

He laughed at that.

"The rest was a couple old savings bonds I cashed in, plus some from my mom."

"Your mom?" I could tell that surprised him.

I laughed, "Yes. She asked me what I wanted for my birthday and I told her I wanted to do a boudoir photo for you."

"How did she take that?"

"She laughed and said, 'You go, girl!' which shocked me...but not as much as when she told me she'd given Dad a racy pinup of her own 40 years ago when he got drafted!" Debbie smiled, thinking about it. "My first reaction was almost 'TMI' but then I realized it was 'Way to go, Mom!'"

...

We were driving along the back roads from Rosemont. I tilted my seat back a bit.

"Did you like the first sequence?"

"Absolutely!" he said. "I felt almost like a voyeur, but they were sexy as hell."

"I've got that red lingerie back on." He glanced over at me quickly, then eyes back on the road.

I slid my skirt up a bit. "Perhaps we should see if it's better on a screen or better in person." He glanced over again, eyes wider. I smiled and deliberately slid my hand into the waistband of my panties. "Eyes on the road, John. We don't want to have an accident." He looked forward again.

"But, if you see someplace private to pull over, that might be a good idea. In the meantime, I'll amuse myself."

His eyes were busy...furiously busy...for the next few minutes: watching the road and what little traffic there was, craning to check out every crossroad to judge what it was like, trying to watch what I was doing, my hand busy inside my pants, my breathing slowly getting deeper.

I felt the brakes come on; we turned right, the wheels coming off smooth asphalt onto dirt. We drove a few hundred yards, then stopped. I looked outside: trees all around, a gate across the road barring the way into a farmer's field, tractor ruts leading through it. The engine died and I looked back at John. He was watching me intently, his eyes moving between my face and my legs.

"Would you like to join me in the back seat?" I said, opening my door.

He was around as I was opening the back door, catching my waist and turning me for a kiss. I remembered our last scene together and leaned into him, hand around his neck pulling him toward me. The kiss broke and I opened the door wide, turned and sat down on the edge. Lifting my hips, I rucked up my skirt, slid my panties down my legs and off. Leaning back across the seat, I scooted until my head was on the opposite side.

John stared at me for a moment, then crawled in, knees between my legs. Crouching under the car roof, he unbuckled his pants and opened them, pulling them down enough. Then sliding forward, his hands on either side of me, he slid the tip of his penis up against me, toying, getting it wet. Then, without a word, he slid into me--halfway, back out, then three quarters, back out, then burying himself all the way. And, just like a pair of horny high schoolers, we fucked in the back seat of the car.

...

We were sitting in front of the computer at home, takeout Chinese in hand, looking at the images. John was enjoying it...I didn't think he'd get enough of them for a while. "You know I'm going to have to ration these?" I told him archly.

"What?" he said, startled.

"I don't want to spoil your appetite for the magazine." I laughed and pulled my fingers through his hair. 

"Hmmm, maybe you're right. I can only look at these for so long before boredom sets in." My fingers locked and started pulling. He laughed, "Just kidding!"

"Me, too," I said and we turned back to them.

"It's very different for me to see these. When they were taking my picture, it was a lot less emotional. I mean, there was that 'gulp' feeling of taking off my clothes for strangers, and Liz really coached me to try to feel what I was trying to convey in the pictures--turned on in the red lace ones, relaxed at the beach, submissive in the bondage scenes, that kind of thing. But still, there was a lot of 'put this leg here' and 'tilt your head this way' stuff, plus the super bright lights and the heavy makeup, not to mention two women staring at my naked body.

"Now, seeing the finished image, the impact is bigger. Maybe a bit less personal, but still bigger. I like these a lot."

He looked at me. "Which one was the most fun?"

I thought about it. "The centerfold!" He laughed. "But, of the others? Hmmm, I'd have to say the school girl scene was the best when it came to just plain fun.

"They were each different for me. The first scene was the sexiest to do, I think. I could picture in my head how it looked and it was easy to figure out my mood," she grinned. 

"I had thought the beach scene would be the most fun, but it was the first one where I had to get absolutely nude in front of them and I was self-conscious. If it had been in a different order--I don't know.

"The school girl one was just fun because it was all teasing. I knew you'd get a kick out of it and Amanda kept making these shocked little faces at me. Liz would snap right after I stopped smiling...she said to catch the amusement still on my face.

"The bondage one was a little scary. I really was cuffed; those weren't fake. And, when the blindfold went on, it became really real. I mean...I knew it wasn't real, but it seemed that way for a second. I was helpless."

"What about the last picture in that set?" he asked.

"At the time we were taking it, it was nothing. It was all just standing there while she drew a line on my butt then turning toward the camera. The room was a lot lighter than it seemed and Amanda was just standing behind and to side, leaning her hand in. It was probably the least intense picture of the day to take.

"But, seeing the result? It startled me. It scared me a little. How did it make you feel?"

"It was like pure dark sex. I was a little turned on, a little disturbed by that turn on, but I can't pretend it wasn't there. Does that make sense?" he responded.

"Yes. It does." I looked at him. "John, I know we've played a few tie-up games but, seeing that line of blood, well, I'm not anywhere near ready for something at that level..."

He cut me off, "Deb, I will never ask for that. Never!"

I smiled at him, perhaps a bit in relief, but mostly satisfaction, and told him, "Then you can have a copy of the picture." He grinned, pumped his arm, "Yes!"

...

I went out to the car and grabbed my suitcase. Struggled with its weight into the house. Plopped it down, opened it...those chains had to come out; they made it too darn heavy to carry around. 

"John!" I called out; he was upstairs. "Help me carry this stuff?"

"Where are you?"

"Den."

He walked in, saw me leaning over the desk, blouse unbuttoned to the short, plaid skirt that had unaccountably ridden high, exposing some brightly striped panties, looking back at him over my shoulder.

- - - - -

Debbie looked around the room at the smiling faces, "Shame about those panties, I had liked them."