21 comments/ 31254 views/ 3 favorites Fifty Seven Fifty By: Spencerfiction Jessie looked down at him sleeping by her side. In the cool, dark pre-dawn she couldn't actually see him, though she felt the warmth of his relaxed supine body seep into her. The curtains rustled as a sudden breeze, cooled by the still gently air-kissed lake outside the cabin, squeezed through the partly open window. She looked up at the source of the sound. The sky through the window was lighter, there was a clear rosy glow banishing the stars from the night sky that hadn't been apparent a few minutes earlier when she awoke, roused probably by a slight change in the otherwise slow regular deep breathing of her husband. 'My husband', she thought, 'my new husband!' her mind playfully exploring the unfamiliar syllables, sending thrills through her body. In these early days and nights of their marital coexistence they were getting to know more about each other and yesterday and last night, they had discovered much. The cooling breeze chilled those parts of her nakedness that weren't in contact with this furnace that was her groom and dislodged a loose wavy curl of her long blond hair until it quivered in front of her right eye, threatening to tickle her strong aquiline nose, betraying both her Scandinavian and French-Canadian roots. She resisted the urge to sweep the wayward tress back in line, her hands were otherwise engaged. Her right fingers were entwined in hubby's thick tight dark hair with her thumb gently caressing the nape of his warm neck; the fingertips of her left hand lightly stroking his taut torso, sensing the relaxed ripples of muscle below. Jessie couldn't sleep. Although she was not very far from that relaxed dreamy state, she knew she would never be completely at ease until she told Tim the one thing for which she burned with shame. She gave herself no choice in the matter, it was merely a case of opportunity. She wasn't looking forward to telling Tim but they couldn't go through married life with either one of the partners living a lie. Jessica, she said to herself, Tim has to know, even if it is a deal breaker; better now than have it come out without being in control and unable to explain. Why? Hell, why? OK, she was aware of her own insecurities but why she took it as far as she did, was another matter. She wasn't sure she could explain the reasons to herself, let alone to another, to her sworn partner of a couple of days' duration. Neither of them were virgins before yesterday, obviously. They were both in their mid-twenties, she two years the elder, and both had a number of previous steady partners, Jess had even been married very briefly once before, the scars still livid on her psyche. That both of them had experimented in the past and honed their lovemaking skills was evident from last night's exploration and pleasuring of one another. Each in turn, during the long day and night, had single-mindedly set about the objective of getting the other partner off. Without thought for their own satisfaction, the joy of achievement in the primary aim sufficed. It had been give and give first and grateful receipt their second consideration throughout, a battle of wills with each trying to outdo the other in generosity. A couple of times boundaries were crossed that night and their shared stop word of "dandelion" came into play. Jessie smiled, recalling Tim's yelling of "dandie-fucking-lion" following Jessica's sinking of two long slim fingers deep into Tim's water-tight anus up to the second knuckle. This event led to a temporary time-out to discuss if "dandie-fucking-lion" was a legitimate substitute for the agreed stop word. Tim's falsetto "fucking-A" was eventually agreed by both parties as an affirmative and Jessie's fingers regrettably withdrawn following the 30-second discussion. The extra finger wiggling during the brief rule interpretation she assured him was purely to ensure an adequate flow of blood to her restricted fingertips rather than for any sexual titillatory consideration on her part. Therefore, very shortly after, Tim's retaliatory above-the-neckline hickey along the jugular was half expected and Jessie's delayed invocation of the "dandelion" rule was more a pointer to the post-honeymoon phase of their shared lives, than any present worries about appearances. Their planned trip to Montreal was after the weekend and her next formal occasion exactly a week away. The odd obvious but temporary honeymoon battle scar was only to be expected, she accepted, and could be cosmetically disguised if necessary but was not to be tolerated as a normal part of their shared lives. Hopefully shared lives, she thought, hopefully. Thirst and a desperate need for the en-suite facilities of the luxury lakeside cabin drove her from the queen-sized bed at last. She softly laid Tim's head on the pillow after she had removed her numb arm from under his neck, the sudden pins and needles in her fingers forcing her to bite her tongue to keep from cursing. It wasn't long before Tim stretched in his turn and reached out for his new life partner, only to find his bride in absentia. His eyes were still clamped firmly shut against the advancing dawn light but could feel the chill all down one side of his torso as if something warm had only recently departed, the adjacent bed surface also revealed some residual heat to his enquiring palm. Then he heard the flush of the toilet, as reassurance that the heavenly past couple of days had not been a dream. Damn, this honeymoon was so bloody awesome, he thought. Rarely had he had a day and night like that before and it could only get better. And this would be just the first of many wonderful days to come, he hoped, he really, really hoped. Jessie was a dream girl, almost too good to be true, fearsomely intelligent, successful, beautiful, sexy, with hot looks and absolute dynamite in the bedroom. I will never find a passion to equal this, he thought, no woman that he thought would be both wildly passionate and constantly true only to him. I know, his thoughts continued, we have contracted to have and to hold from this day forward, well, from two days ago, so he should be the happiest man in the world. But ... and it was a big word that 'but', each letter outweighing a dozen ordinary consonants in mass and there was a huge problem that had to be overcome before Jessie found out what he had done from another, less reliable source. Knowing his friends and hers it would get back to her eventually, it couldn't be avoided. If he didn't tell her first he knew he would be dead meat instantly and he would never get a chance to explain, to justify, to make atonement, to beg forgiveness. Tim had been a high hurdler for as long as he could remember and the glory days of Beijing and the pride he felt standing alongside his fellow athletes, with heavy bronze around his neck and the red,white and blue of the union flag around his shoulders in front of thousands in the stadium and millions at home was nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the last hurdle he needed to clear with a critical audience of just one, the one. He would have preferred to have confessed his guilt to Jessie the first night of the honeymoon, but they had been so tired after her long day and evening that Jess had virtually slept throughout the journey to the beautiful lake-side resort in The Rockies. Both had dived straight into bed and dropped off after a few kisses and they spooned, exhausted but blissfully happy, all night. Besides, how could he even think of ruining her beautiful big day with an ugly outpouring of his eternal shame? They had agreed to abstain from lovemaking for a full month prior to the wedding to heighten their pleasures of the event. So it was no surprise early the next morning, their first dawn as man-and-wife, when Jess had woken early and Tim was gently coaxed into joining her in the land of the living to the joy of his bride's mouth enveloping his swollen cock. The itinerary for the remainder of that special day had pretty well followed that lead. After Tim had climaxed and Jess had hoovered him clean, it was only gentlemanly to return the compliment and eat her pussy for breakfast until Tim's tongue was completely numb. She then jumped his bones in an enthusiastic reverse cowgirl while he cradled her small firm breasts and teased her engorged nipples until their cool light brown hue had turned to hot pillar box red. Tim feasted on his own cream pie for elevenses before using the excessive natural lubricants to facilitate a pleasurable rimming of her unbleached arsehole. Meanwhile Jessie cleaned his pole of their combined love juices and, with the help of a firm oscillating handgrip, encouraged Tim to ramrod hardness once again. Now Tim lubed up her already pulsating sphincter and gradually, inexorably inserted his blood-filled purple glans into her excruciatingly tight anus for the very first time in their relationship. Tim hesitated, acutely listening for the stop word. She had told him, perfectly seriously when they were first engaged, that her married arse would be his but he didn't quite believe it. He then continued taking her anal cherry by slowly rocking back and forth a quarter of an inch each way, sufficient to ensure staying within the confines of her straining cavity but without actually making much inward progress. After adding a dribble more aromatic lube oil and a dozen or so gentle but insistent strokes, Jessica was able to relax her anal muscles and Tim penetrated an inch or so by the next drive, enabling him to lengthen his recovery and add impetus to the next thrust. A couple of drives later he made a further inch of ground and still no cry of mercy from his compliant spouse. OK, there were lots of sobs, sighs and the occasional breathless expletive but, in the absence of "dandelion", he pressed on impaling his bride's chocolate corridor. Before long his cushioning pubes were grinding gratefully against Jess's delectably smooth firm round butt cheeks and Tim increased the stroke rate as well as the dynamics of each enthralling thrust. Soon he was pumping iron, breathing deeply and hard, his cavernous lungs labouring as industrially as his supple hips; Jessie was in tune with the increasing rhythm and trying her hardest to alternately relax and tense her sphincter in line with Tim's heroic efforts as well as using her strong arms pushing against the bedroom wall to meet each welcoming, painful but pleasurable thrust. Jessie shuddered as her unexpectedly imminent orgasm threatened and Tim relaxed his own concentration sufficiently to release his pent up expectorant, heralding Jessie's own ecstatic release. The couple screamed at the same time, loud enough to make all the fish in the lake leap out of the water as Tim's cum was propelled deep into Jessie's accommodating bowels. They held each other hardly moving as the sun's shadows in the room stabilised then slowly lengthened to show the start of the afternoon was already upon them. Following the natural need to relieve their tortured bodies of internal waste, and a hot shower to externally cleanse themselves, drove them from the marital bed. Thirst and hunger later led them to the kitchen to slake those other hungers which had crept upon them while they had succumbed to satisfied weariness. They didn't bother or care to dress. Jessie brewed the coffee and, while waiting for the brew, poured them a glass each of iced tea from the fridge to quench their thirst. Tim cut bread and made them each a thick, rather lop-sided salad sandwich. They retired to the bedroom to enthusiastically consume their quick meal, each wreathed in the warming glow of righteousness. Not now, definitely not now, was the time for either of them to pay the piper of retribution. Silently both judged, "tomorrow". They had thoughts only of the night of passion before them and imagination became reality while the moon rose and fell as their ardour waxed and waned until mellowed by physical and mental exhaustion. So it was that following their first full day of married lovemaking, the second day became nominated by both the loving couple as the day of reckoning. A day for each to descend from their dreamy honeymoon fantasy and face the harsh reality of modern day male-female relationships and "fess up" their all-too-recent transgressions. Tim rose from his warm repose. His conscience wouldn't allow him to relax any longer. He had to tell his bride his guilty secret before he could allow himself to touch her again. Until she forgave his breach of trust, if she forgave him, if it was at all within her... Meanwhile Jess finished her toilet, taking her first long hot shower of her married life alone, driven to unseen tears by the spectre of this simple once-habitual act as a singleton becoming once more her norm, should Tim decide she had gone too far this time. Coffee was the first order of the day, and Tim busied himself getting the brew underway. He checked the fridge and extracted orange juice, bacon and eggs, tomatoes and bread for toast. These holiday cabins came with a basic complement of food and drink, which saved occupants the hassle or inconvenience of interrupting their pleasurable isolation by having to shop for essential sustenance. He popped into the shower after his naked, slightly steaming beautiful wife exited and moved towards the bedroom closet. By the time he got out of the shower Jess was dressed in comfortable jeans and voluminous sweatshirt and already sipping fresh-poured coffee, waiting for him. They smiled and kissed deeply, exchanging morning greetings. Tim tore himself away to get himself dressed and Jess started cracking eggs and grilling bacon, filling the compact space with appetising aromas. Like Tim, Jess also felt that now the time was right or at least it would be immediately after breakfast. There was a calmness between the couple this morning, their aching need of each other satisfied yesterday. Now comes the reckoning, each understood, it could be delayed no longer. With the bacon sizzling away, Jessie carried a glass of orange juice and steaming coffee to her lover's bedside table as he finished towelling himself dry and pulled on his underpants. Jessica couldn't help but feel a thrill seeing him balance momentarily on one leg, then the other and pull those flimsy white shorts up to snugly envelope his well-developed gluteus maximus, his beautiful buttocks. God, she thought, although he was no longer an international athlete, he was still an Adonis, despite his angry defacing injuries. She looked down the back and side of his right leg, the livid red scars on his facia lata and outer thigh down to the back of his mangled knee were still fresh, the surface discolouration betraying how the skin had been flayed from his flesh by the horrific coach crash on a lonely mountain road in Switzerland, Europe, just three years ago. A sob escaped her lips involuntarily at the pain she felt, knowing what he had suffered, still endured, the permanent imbalance to his leading leg and the relatively reduced mobility which ended his career as Timothy Granger-Thompson, the Golden Boy, not only of 110m high hurdles, but of British Athletics at the tender age of twenty-three. The injury forced him to miss his own home Olympiad where he had hoped to confront and fulfil his destiny. Now he had to be content with his second career, working as a junior athletics coach in a nondescript Southern Californian college, while studying for his masters in sports psychology. It was a comedown from his previous high, but it led to the couple meeting and falling in love. Jessica's eyes brimmed with tears. She adored his single-minded determination to overcome his disability, his refusal to feel sorry for himself and his drive to build a new career. She loved too, his willingness to put himself out there to help young athletes learn their craft. And to bring her out of her long romanceless mistrust of the opposite sex. As she passed by Tim on the way back to the kitchen, he grabbed her and spun her round to sit on the bed. Tim sat next to her, still in his shorts and turned his body three-quarters towards her. "Honey, I need to tell you about what happened on my Stag four nights ago. I can't go on any longer without telling you, telling you everything." The joy on his face in the simple act of touching his bride for only the second time today had been immediately overshadowed by the enormity of his imminent confession, replacing a moment of sublime pleasure with monumental gravity in his thoughts and face at an instant. "Let me turn off the grill," Jess said and she moved swiftly and gracefully to the galley kitchen. While she ensured that everything was safe, she returned to find Tim had had time to pull on his jeans but hadn't donned his sweatshirt yet. Jessica sat next to him on the bed, their first marital bed, to hear his confession, leaning up against her husband. Then, she thought, once he had got what he wanted to say off his chest it will be time for me to unburden mine. "I hope you didn't have strippers and lap dancers drooling all over your hunky body all night," she pouted, quietly. "I told the chaps categorically from the outset that there were to be no strippers or any funny business, just a few drinks out with some College friends, after all, I've not really known them that long. And they promised, Howard told me that I wouldn't be forced to do shots unless I wanted to, that no-one would strip tease in front of me and that I didn't need money for food, drinks or cabs, the evening was all on them." "So, what evil deed or deeds have you done, that you have to confess to me while you are blushing so delightfully madly?" Jess couldn't disguise her pleasure as she snuggled up to his firm, warm sweet-smelling nakedness, making Tim squirm with embarrassment, his face was actually turning quite crimson. She loved how British he was, so reserved and so easily abashed whenever he was caught out, even over something quite innocent. He was like an open book she thought, not like that other cheating bastard... She tried her best to flush her thoughts of those past hurts by another man, an unreliable lying, conniving son of a... She expunged her anger at her old husband and former lover by mushing against her new man, her new and improved man, and burying her tongue in her husband's hot but dry mouth. His arm automatically enveloped his bride around the shoulder as he was similarly pinioned about his waist but Tim fought hard to maintain control of himself. He would not be diverted, however sweet the diversion was. He had to finish this path of unbosoming that he had begun so tentatively to tread, or he would be finished, submerged, drowned in a sea of self-hate on the one hand and loathing on the other. His hands moved to her upper arms and he pushed his precious wife gently but inexorably apart from his aching lips. "Honey, I've got to finish what I started," he pleaded, knowing if he relented now he was lost. Tim was starting to feel sick to his stomach and was, for the first time in his life, unsure if he could even get his body to respond to her ardent passion until he had finally bared his soul and paid the due consequences, however severe they turned out to be. "Well, I like to finish what I start too, sweetheart." Jess fluttered her lovely long eyelashes at her bewildered beau. In her own well of uncertainty of how her lover would react to her soon-to-be-confessed foibles, she couldn't resist milking his own discomfiture for as long as she could, hoping that if he felt he had a mountain to climb from the abyss of his own despair, that her own descent from grace would register as just a tiny dip in the ocean of relief in her hoped-for reconciliation with the man who owned her heart, body and soul. She thought back to when they first met. Well, it was a little one-sided at first. Jessica noticed him on the running track at the college where they both had posts. He was a junior athletics coach, with potential to go far. He was tall and dark-haired but with quite fair skin. He was warming up when she first espied him, sprinting in short bursts. Jess noticed his height, 6ft 3in or 4inches and slim but very muscular in build. His hair was dark and curly, cut short to keep any wayward curls in check. Oddly, on such an extremely warm sunny September, late afternoon after school, he kept his tracksuit bottoms on, hiding his long muscular legs from view. Everyone else was sweltering in the hot sunshine, including Jess. She thought he was handsome and quite fit but must be steaming underneath his clothes. What she really noticed though, was that he never even glanced her way. Although she never encouraged it, she knew she was being stared at by every hot -bloodied male in the stadium. She was used to attention and ignored it but she noticed, with interest, that the new kid on the block paid her no attention at all. Fifty Seven Fifty Over the next few weeks every time she went to the track to train, whether it was first thing in the morning or into the evening, he seemed to be there already, single-mindedly putting in a punishing series of short speedy sprints and long enduring runs. One early morning he set up some hurdles and proceeded in knocking most of them over on the sprinting track. Then he'd set them up again and go through the exercise over and over. Occasionally she worked herself close enough to catch him talking to someone and was surprised to hear him speak with a very clear British accent. She liked the sound of his voice and longed to speak with him but was unsure how to go about it. Jess hadn't dated for years, although she was hit on continuously, and couldn't readily drop all those hang-ups with which she screened herself. She found out his name by casually asking one of the athlete students and Jess looked him up on-line back in her office. Apparently he was a household name in his native country, an athlete regarded as a world class talent, his career cut short by a horrific auto accident. He had taken some sports psychology courses in the UK and was completing his studies in the US as well as assisting with the coaching to help pay his way through college. Jess couldn't find any negative gossip about his dating habits, apparently lots of girls had chanced their arm and a couple of them had managed to persuade him to make up a foursome for a meal or a movie, but no-one seemed to have touched his heart in the first month or so on campus, and he certainly wasn't putting himself about. Tim had seen this stunning willowy woman, with a waterfall of blond hair halfway down her back, running around the track. Although her frame was spare her thighs were well-developed and she had a gloriously shaped arse. When she moved she had the grace of a cat, a poise, balance, she was so graceful. How was it possible, he asked himself, to have so delightful a motion from side to side whilst propelling herself forward? She seemed to be there every morning and evening, working through a seriously gruelling training schedule. He found out her name and looked her up on Google. She was famous, very famous. A native of Montreal, Jessica Toussaint was only a couple of years older than Tim, but she had already earned her doctorate, was the head of the history department at the college and was a popular TV personality to boot having filmed a highly-rated series about hairstyles and head-dresses in the 3rd Kingdom of Ancient Egypt. Jessica Toussaint was rumoured to have further history series in the pipeline and offers of professorships at a number of prestigious universities. Like Tim, she didn't have a permanent relationship and seemed to be avoiding even casual dating. Jess had been married once but it hadn't lasted long, ending several years before. Tim had wondered why it hadn't lasted and why she seemed shy of new relationships. Tim's most recent steady girlfriend, had declined his marriage proposal shortly after he suffered his horrific accident. He had been reluctant since to commit himself to a new relationship in the past year or so. Their training bags happened to be about ten foot apart when they coincidentally returned to quench their thirst and Jessica had thrown down her empty plastic bottle with a curse, having forgotten to pack a spare. Tim tossed her one of his bottles and they started talking, which turned into a coffee later, a date, more dates, moving in together and a proposal accepted for a life together. Back to the present Tim tried to tell Jessica about his stag night bachelor party. "We agreed beforehand that there would be no lap dancers and no strippers and that I just wanted to have a few beers, I'm just not used to drinking ardent spirits." "You are not that bad, Dear," Jess interjected, "I've only had to carry you home once." Jess was stronger than she looked. "I was particularly tired on that occasion and besides how was I to know that American fruit punch is mostly pure alcohol with a token splash of fruit juice?" "And did your 'stag' compatriots comply with your restrictive conditions, Hon?" Jessie smiled sweetly, knowing how wild some of these occasions were, her own bridal shower being a case in point. "Yes and no," Tim admitted. "In what area of entertainment or refreshment was there a significant degree of interpretational variance to your original stipulations?" "Both areas were interpreted rather liberally," confessed Tim, looking down at his own lap. From her sitting position on the bed, next to her husband, Jessie kicked herself further up the bed, fluffed a pillow and placed it under her armpit, she turned on her side and propped herself up comfortably on an elbow and the pillow and regarded him, saying, "Well, I'm comfy, and ready to listen, are you going to begin at the beginning?" Tim made himself comfortable by moving up the bed and forming a bookend image of his bride, then he started. "There were a dozen of us to begin with, down at Tony's Tavern, where we had a couple of beers. Then we moved on to the Ramada where the other guys starting hitting tequila shots. That stuff is vile, I was persuaded to try one and you wouldn't pay me to drink that stuff ever again, I'd rather suck on a gallon of flat warm Newkie Brown! Eventually, after about half a dozen rounds we went onto a nightclub, no idea which one, where the guys had already booked a booth. That was where I think they were supplying me with boilermakers, because I was feeling more than just the usual beer buzz. I needed something to eat, to soak up the booze, so we moved onto a restaurant by which time we were down to about six of us. Howard was the organiser and, after some food and more drinks, we ended up in the foyer of a hotel where, unknown to me, they had secured a suite, with a lounge and a couple of en-suite bedrooms." "I feel some hanky panky coming on, all this mention of bedrooms on a bachelor party. I hope you behaved yourself, Sweetheart?" Jessie said, a concerned note in her voice. "By the time we got to the suite and I found myself on the sofa, Honey, I was feeling no pain. I was out of my head. We indulged in a few noisy rounds of drinking games, all of which I think, no, I know I lost. Then Howard said it was time for bed, which seemed perfectly natural to me, you know how tired I get when I drink a lot. So I was frog marched into one of the bedrooms and my friends very kindly helped me to get undressed." "How did Howard get hold of your PJs, then?" asked Jessica, innocently. "Apparently, he didn't," admitted Tim. "They stripped you down to your underwear then, huh Sweetheart?" Jessica smiled. "All the way down to my skin, actually," divulged Tim, a little guiltily. "Of course they did, I wouldn't have expected anything less, all your male friends are sports coaches or jocks. I hope they tucked you in so you were nice and warm and cosy?" Jess enquired. "Nothing to tuck in, my love, all the bedclothes had been removed, just a bottom sheet on the mattress, really." "Good thing it's mid summer, I remember it was quite close and sticky in the city on the night of your bachelor party." "Well, it wasn't hot in that hotel room, I was bloody freezing, the air conditioning was on full blast. I had goosebumps, all over," moaned Tim. "Aww, at least you were somewhere safe and not stumbling home drunk in the dark," Jess observed, "So your fellow bachelors just turned out the lights and woke you up nicely refreshed for breakfast and coffee in the morning?" "Not quite," said Tim, "They left all the lights on, full on, and then they walked out and left me in that bedroom. The last thing they wanted me to do was sleep the rest of the night." "I don't suppose you were so drunk not to get up and turn down the air con and switch off the lights?" guessed Jess. "You'd think so, but no, I couldn't move! They had padlocked my wrists and ankles to the bed posts with these furry pink handcuffs that they must've bought from a sex shop or something, I couldn't move much at all. I certainly couldn't get up. I lay there helpless," complained the unhappy groom. Jessie giggled, "I suppose you were left all alone for the rest of the night, in the freezing cold with your poor cold winkie shrivelling up to nothing?" "Not exactly the rest of the night and you know however cold it is I never shrink very much." "True, sweetie. When did they release you, then?" "About 9 or 10 in the morning. I'm not sure as I couldn't see my wristwatch as my wrist was still handcuffed to the bedpost." "Oh, Honey," sympathised Jessica, "So you were left all on your lonesome all night?" "Not ... lonesome exactly,", Tim admitted. "So someone sat with you all night? Awww! That was nice of your pals," Jess commented. "Er ... yes, very nice. Someone came into the room almost immediately and locked the door behind them, to keep us private." "Your pal, Howard, I guess he looked after you, as he organised everything?" "No, not Howard." "James? ... Paul? ... Wayne? ... Jonesy? ... Who was it then sweetheart?" "Not James ... Not Paul ... Definitely not Wayne, he didn't last as far as the hotel ... Not Jonesy either, unfortunately," Tim paused. "So who was this hero who kept you company for, ohh, how long was it, seven, eight hours?" enquired Jess. "Yes, it must have been about that long." "So who was the hero I have to thank, for keeping you company in your hour of need when I wasn't allowed to be with you?" "Er ... Candy," whispered Tim. "Candy?" enquired Jessie, with raised eyebrows, "Who the fuck's Candy?" Her voice climbed half an octave. "Candy is the girl the guys hired ... for me." "Hired her for what, was she a lap dancer or a stripper?" "Neither, I was securely tied flat on the bed so I didn't have a lap to dance on for one thing and as for stripping, well she didn't have to ... er ... bother with a strip-tease." "So this Candy woman remained fully clothed throughout the time she shared your bedroom, huh?" Jessica enquired a little testily. "She didn't actually remove any clothing in the bedroom ... Oh bugger, Jess! She didn't have to remove any clothing because she was already virtually naked. Just stockings, suspenders and five inch pumps, she must have got changed in the other bedroom." "Oh, shit!" Jessica breathed and was quiet for almost a minute. "Was she one of those exotic dancers, you know, the kind you are supposed to watch but are not allowed to touch?" "Oh, well, she definitely had some moves on her but I don't think she was a dancer." Tim paused, before continuing, "And she was there specifically ... er ... to be touched." "A hooker!" Jess exploded, "She was a damned hooker!" "She was," agreed Tim, quietly. "So, Honey," Jess spat, with heavy emphasis on the 'honey', "You spent all night with this hooker, then, huh?" "Look, I tried everything I could to talk her out of spending the night with me. I said that I had an exclusive agreement with my fiancé from way before we even got engaged. I said we were due to marry in two days and I would feel too guilty not to confess everything to my bride, so she had the power to destroy our marriage before it even began. I also pointed out that I was English and that we don't do this sort of thing at all, we are far too anal for casual sex," Tim pleaded. "I told her that not only was I anal but you were Canadian, from Quebec and she agreed with me that Quebecers were probably even more repressed than the Brits were!" "So, she accepted that this touching - whatever you precisely meant by that - was not happening, that any touching other than a polite handshake was completely out of the question?" "Not really," Tim admitted, "She said she understood the situation from my point of view, one day when she had worked her way through college ..." Jessica butted in then "College? What do you mean, college, when did she tell you she was a fucking young, fucking student?" "She must've told me later when we were talking, I can't really recall, I was drunk remember?" "Just how drunk?" "Very, about six hours of solid drinking drunk and you know I'm not used to it, Baby." "Not too drunk to realise how young a 'ho' she was, then?" "OK, she was very young but she was determined, adamant that it was a done deal. Candy was a professional, paid to do a specific job or more than one job as it happens, and she was going to carry it out to the letter. She was duty bound, she said." Jessica thought about it for another minute. "Still, paid professional or not, there's not much she could've done though, if you didn't actually respond sexually to her. I mean you couldn't could you, after all that alcohol, the freezing cold temperature and your solemn promise to me that I was your one and only. Is that right, Babe?" "Mmmm, s'pose not," Tim muttered uncertainly. "So your big soldier stayed nice and limp in that cold room and wouldn't get up and at 'em for that tart, right?! Right?" "Honey, I'm a chap, our responses ... you know ... down there ... are well, quite involuntary." "But she was a tart, a painted whore, a floozie! That would make a difference. It wasn't me, the one true love of your life, so it couldn't happen. Right?" "Well, she wasn't you, I was drunk and kept telling myself Candy wasn't you but, honest, Hon, she did look so much like you, tall, slim, long blond hair, in great shape, she could have been your twin sister. Shit, even her face looked like you, same colour eyes, same great nose, same delicious lips. I suppose she might have had quite a bit of make-up on, I didn't really notice," Tim was digging a hole for himself and he knew it. "She was actually really nice looking, only the littlest bit tarty." "Nice looking for a tart! and I suppose you couldn't take your eyes of her tits, huh?" Jessica was tall, slim, long blond hair halfway down her back, in great shape but had always imagined her tits were on the small side. "Well, she was leaning over me on the bed and they were right in front of my eyes, so I couldn't help noticing them. They did look ... big." Tim's voice dropped to a whisper as he looked down, then he rallied and glared at Jess defiantly, he knew he was going to suffer and was resolved to end the agony and suffer the consequences. "Bloody hell, Jess! They were fantastic tits and they moved and jiggled as she spoke and breathed. I mean they were right there and I was wearing beer goggles." Tim was still digging his hole, he'd need pit ponies to get out if he carried on. "S'pose they were much bigger tits than mine then, were they?" Jess was shaking her head from side to side, speaking through clenched teeth, everybody's bloody tits are bigger than mine, she thought. "They looked bigger, because they were right in my face, but I think they were very similar to yours," Tim looked deep into her eyes and quickly added, "But yours are the best, my favourite handfuls, and as for your nipples, Honey, there was no comparison." "Did you get hard looking at those fantastic but second-rate nippled tits, then?" "Well, no ... not at first." "So, you admit that you did get hard at some stage. What got you hard. Did she start jerking you off?" she hissed. "No, she hardly touched me at all," despite Tim's recent shower and the cool atmosphere in the cabin, he was sweating profusely. "She started using her nails on my chest, Sweetheart." "Nails?" "Yes, they were long, nearly two inches and painted glossy red. She started scratching my chest lightly with the tips of her nails and smiling sweetly at me. With her hair piled high and the light behind her, the girl's face was in shadow, she could have been you, Honeypie. What could I do? Hon, my body just ... reacted." "Yes, but it wasn't me, was it? It was some ass-crack whore! So you had a raging hard on just for this overweight, silicone-chested whore cow, with the gaudy 'slapper' nails, and she had you drooling all over her?" "She wasn't fat and they really didn't look false." Tim's voice had fallen back to a whisper. "Was she fit, not fat, then?" "Mmmmm. Fit." Jessie's eyes were blazing "What, OK fit or really fucking fit?" "The second one," Tim swallowed hard but his mouth was too dry for saliva. "Plain faced bitch, then, was she?" "No, she wasn't plain, actually," Tim opined, rather too quickly for Jessica's liking. "What was she like, actually?" with more than a dribble of sarcasm in her voice. "Well she was pretty and young, maybe 19 or 20, still at college I think, from something she said later about working to pay her way through. Said she had lost her scholarship after some bad grades and didn't want to admit she had partied too much to her parents. She was just a nice girl forced into a situation, a bit like where I found myself." He stopped momentarily, looking his wife directly in the eye. "You would have liked her." He dropped his eyes again, he found it hard to hold her gaze, which remained hostile. Softly he continued, "Look, Candy was really nice, blond, hair piled high, long neck, hour-glass waist, accommodating hips, shapely legs encased in black suspenders and black fishnet tights, black pumps with four or five inch heels. Nice, really nice." Tim spoke in a dream-like trance, nodding each bullet point as he spoke, then raised his eyes to meet Jessica's, whose moist eyes continued to bore into him like diamond tipped drills. He hastily added, "But in a slutty way, of course." Jessica was drumming her right fingertips on the mattress. Tim noticed they hadn't touched for most of their exchange of words. He reached across with his left hand and cupped his beloved's right cheek, it felt cool and dry to his warm, sweat-moistened hand. Tim hoped she wasn't cooling towards him anywhere else on her desirable body. "You are enjoying this, aren't you, you fucking bastard!" Jessica responded, "Now you're gonna tell me that whore fucked you stupid on that bed and you did nothing to stop her!" "I did everything I could to do to stop her, Honey!" pleaded Tim, who was unable to prevent his voice rising both in octave and volume. He retreated his proffered hand back to the mattress. "I even offered to pay her money not to do what the guys had paid her to do." "How were you able to do that, then Hon, you said earlier that you didn't have any money on you?" "I didn't have my wallet, the lads told me not to bring any money for drinks, food or cab home. I asked Candy to check what change I had in my pocket. It added up to thirty-seven dollars fifty cents. Then I remembered I had a twenty folded up in that little secret pocket." "So, you were able to pay her off your whore with just fifty seven fifty? She must've been a really cheap trick-turning, drunk-banging slapper!" "Not quite," Tim said, "Her normal fee for a trick like this this was two thousand dollars a night," he paused as Jessica's jaw dropped open, "Well, that's what she said. And she insisted that she was honour-bound to carry out what she had been paid to do." "I'm in the wrong profession," Jess snapped, "I could earn my salary for a night's work a week. Do you think I'm worth two grand a night?" She glared at Tim, who she expected to rise to the challenge, or else! "Every penny of three grand Hon, no probs," enthused Tim, with only the barest hint of a hesitation. "She was a babe, I admit that, but you are one unique hot piece of arse." Taking the bull by the horns, Tim reached his left hand behind his bride's head and pulled her towards him slowly but firmly. His barely damp tongue met her dry lips, moistened them with a lick and pressed his lips against hers and urged his tongue partly into her mouth. To his eternal relief, bearing in mind the way the conversation had been going, Jess responded to his eager tongue with her own and they tongue-wrestled for a moment while their arms enveloped each other as they lay on their bed. They only ceased their kiss when they were both forced to come up for air. Fifty Seven Fifty Jessica smiled warmly at her wonderful husband as they both panted to get their breath back. She thought it was now time to let him off the hook, to offer a loving hand to help him out of the bottom of the dark pothole he'd abseiled into. "So, let's see if I have got the situation right, I suppose you offered to pay her the balance of the two grand as soon as you were able to?" suggested Jess with a smile. "Huh huh," Tim answered warily, wondering where the conversation was going next. He had hoped the passionate kiss had enabled him to turn the corner, but he was still on rocky ground. "Then you suggested, purely to preserve Candy's reputation as the ultimate professional, of course, that you both jump up and down on that hotel bed for twenty minutes or so, a couple of times an hour until five o'clock when you fell asleep totally exhausted?" "We did," Tom replied with a slight frown and a degree of uplift in his voice. "And you filled half a dozen condoms with a splash of liquid soap from the en suite bathroom, tied them up and tossed them in and around the waste paper basket for good effect?" Jess was on a roll and Tim's head was reeling. "Five, wanted to keep it real, I had had quite a bit to drink," Tim countered curtly, now smelling a large rat just below his nose. "And lipstick wiped all over your bath towel was a nice touch appreciated by Howard and your friends, right?" "Candy suggested that when I, note the singularity, I had my shower." "And Candy teased her own magnificent tits so they were red and raw like they had been wantonly teased, bitten and sucked all night, again for Howard's benefit? "Seems like she did." Tim now sounded a little pissed. "And Candy told your friends that she had been fucked to a standstill by the best lover she had ever had and wouldn't be able to work again for at least a week?" "She was insistent," Tim said, finding it impossible to stop a grin emerging as he recalled the faces of his compatriots. "I think the three lads still hanging on in the morning were hoping for a sloppy seconds gang-bang bonus within the set fee but she put them firmly in their places." "Then, as she flounced out of that suite she blew you a kiss and said 'Until next time, Lover, I've got your down payment and, remember, I am a pro!' and everyone's jaw dropped?" "Yes, it was a neat touch and should go some way to make me a legend in that town and you know she did, that much is pretty obvious. So, why do you know everything and who the hell is this bloody Candy girl, then?" "That, my darling, is my confession and I am really sorry. You know that I was so unsure of my ability to hold onto a man, as wonderful as you in particular, that I asked my cousin Annabel to play the role of Candy. I then arranged to pay Howard for the suite, telling him that without your knowledge I was allowing you one last night with another woman before you were married and I had chosen the woman I was prepared to use for the task." She looked nervously into his eyes. "I am so sorry, Honey. You know my first husband screwed up my mind by fucking every woman who threw themselves at him. So I thought if you could resist Annabel, even when you were helpless, that you could be trusted with anyone. I got the call from Annabel when she got down to the hotel lobby. Annabel said that you were the perfect gentleman all night, the ideal husband and that if I didn't grab you with both hands then she would go back and get you for herself. I promise that I will never ever doubt you again and trust you with my heart for as long as we live. Please, can you find it in your heart to forgive me for the impossible situation I put you through?" Jessica looked at Tim and hoped upon hope that her confession of distrust for what happened to her in the past and her devout promise of trust in the future would be enough to weigh against the nightmare she had created through her jealousy on his bachelor night. Her husband answered by pulling his wife into his chest, holding her tight and kissing the top of her lovely head. "Honey, you know that you are the only one for for me, 'til death us do part and all that. There will never be anyone else who I will love as much as you. As for checking me out as a faithful husband, you can check me out any time, I owe you that just for being my one and only babe." The bacon and coffee went cold and the bread became too desiccated to toast, even the sun disappeared altogether from the sky before the couple considered their next meal, so consumed they were with one another. *** A week later the couple were in Montreal, Tim meeting Jessica's parents for the first time and having a blessing of their marriage in their family's local suburban church. Cousin Annabel was unable to make it, preparing for her third year at a New York college, but her parents were there and Tim thought they were very straight-laced, her father a preacher; both were very proud of the college scholarship that Annabel had secured, though. That evening, the smartly-dressed couple were side by side as Jessie waited to receive the Freedom of the City from the Montreal City Fathers, and attended a ball in her honour afterwards for achievements in broadcasting. Two days later they landed in Heathrow, England, where they were met by Tim's father and mother who conveyed them to their Hertfordshire home to meet the British side of the family. The last week of their extended honeymoon was spent in the south of France relaxing in the sun with superb food and wine to massage away any cares and tensions before they returned to California for the new semester. On the way back they stopped over for a couple of nights in New York. There were some pretty heavy negotiations during the day with the television studios, thrashing out a deal with Jess and her agent, for the next series or two of historical documentaries which Jess would be commissioned to write and present for a considerable fee. Tim wasn't sure but he thought the series that Jess wanted to do was an in-depth study of the legend of Atlantis, using her own theories and unprecedented leading edge research. The studios wanted a lighter and less well documented look at Roman orgies with a high proportion of reconstructed scenes. Jess apologised to her new hubby that she probably wouldn't be back to the hotel until late evening on both days and she'd be completely exhausted by then. Tim hugged and kissed her and said not to worry, this was her moment of glory and she needed to work the best deal she could without being encumbered by worrying about a bored husband. They had all the rest of their lives to make up for these two lost days. Tim would occupy himself with sight-seeing, he said, he was not short of places to see on his first stay in New York. They parted that first morning with a passionate kiss and genuine endearments. *** The hotel that Tim walked into alone that lunchtime, on the corner of Lexington and Fifth, was not as nice as the hotel the studio has booked the newly-weds into. Tim made his way to the bar. It took Tim the merest cursory glance to home in on the most attractive woman in the room. She was stunning, poised on the bar stool, her lithe long legs crossed, the lower leg perched on a high rail on the stool, her pleated skirt a couple of inches short of the knee exposed at least half of her glorious thigh to view. Her light cotton skirt and top were a fresh lemon colour and an ideal reflection of the late summer heat in the city. While everyone else in that bar sweltered in spite of the overworked air con, she looked cool and fresh. Her hair was blond and long, tied into a braid hanging halfway down her narrow back, tied off with a bright yellow ribbon. Her complexion perfect, lightly made up with darkened curving lashes and red glossy lipstick. The skin on her arms and legs pale white, highlighted by the same red of her lips adorning her fingernails and toenails. Her feet were tucked into cream sling-back open-toed sandals with fragile three inch heels. A moment earlier she had turned her beautiful face towards the door, as she had several times a minute in the fifteen or so she had perched there, waiting for him. She had been hit on five times in that short space of time and gently let down each Tom, Dick, Harry and Whatever with the most charming of smiles, saying she was meeting someone. And no, she didn't need another drink, her first cocktail had been charged to her room and she was making it last until she had finished her patient wait. The two or three barstools on either side of her were empty, she was best viewed from at least six or seven feet away, so to a man the lunchtime crowd of that bar were focused like satellites around a glorious yellow sun. She turned to face the bar entrance once more and the object of her attention finally entered the room and homed comet-like towards the yellow-clad nucleus. Tim held her tight and kissed both her cheeks before planting a long lingering body-tingling kiss on those ripe ruby lips, their tongues questioning and answering a multitude of feelings bottled up within. Any separation between their being together was too long. They were so exclusively engrossed in their greeting they didn't hear the audible groan of expelled air, like a weary building settling onto its foundations after the warmest of days but which signified the dashed expectations of every hot-bloodied male in the room. The beautiful couple broke off their kiss. "Candy?" Tim ventured, adding his most disarming smile. "I hardly recognised you fully clothed, Honey." "Annabel," she said, slapping him playfully on his upper arm, "I'll be Candy when I get you upstairs to my room." She teased him with her hand stroking his muscular chest in the V-shape framed by his jacket lapels, as she glanced up at Tim's eyes coyly, before focussing her vision on the middle of his broad chest. "Well, Annabel," said Tim, "I do need to thank you for giving such a glowing report of me to Jessica, with heavily edited highlights of my conduct that night. I am open to suggestions about how I can even begin thanking you." "And I guess I need to reward you for not letting my parents know how I pay my way through College after losing my scholarship. I really thought my cover had been blown when I got that call from Jess out of the blue like that, asking me to tease you on your bachelor night." She looked up once more into his eyes. "I had to back you up," grinned Tim. "Anyway, I owe you big time for telling me how to win Jessie's heart by playing it cool around her and not dating anyone from campus, and by letting her make the first move. I can't believe how easy it was in the end but I know I would never have done it without your help. I really love Jessica and always will, you know that don't you, Hon?" "Of course I do," Candy cooed, her ruby red lips forming and maintaining a perfect "o" at the end of her statement, making her look even more irresistible. "I knew as soon as we met, just after your bitch fiancé wrote you that 'Dear John', that you were the perfect man for my favourite cousin, and she'd be absolutely perfect for you." She remembered that night over a year ago now, when this sweet, but then very sad man, friendless and thousands of miles from home, needed a girl, not necessarily for sex, just someone to talk to, and that's all they did that first night, talk. Candy came highly recommended, there was nothing she wouldn't do to turn a trick, but Tim was different and he touched her without physically touching her. He was so gorgeous, yet so damaged, physically and spiritually that her heart went out to him. Annabel loved him too, of course, she always would. But it was a love made of affection, friendship, a shared journey where she was an important part of bringing him back from the brink of despair. The Candy in her knew that in her heart a romance would never have worked out between them. Tim might have fallen in love with Annabel, but Candy had way too much history and, although she had more than enough bedside table money to finish college, she would carry on doing the work she enjoyed. Hey, she was a professional and could detach herself emotionally from romantic love. She was actually delighted that she could adore both Tim and Jess and do what she was about to do without any trace of guilt. Tim deserved his reward, she thought. Casting her mind back, they had just talked and shaken hands that first two thousand dollar night together. Then they spent a dozen coffee dates plotting his courtship with Jess, during which her affection for this charming, loveable man grew. She would remember each meeting with pleasure and she will never, ever forget his bachelor night. "How long have you got, Hon?" she asked. "All afternoon, and maybe all tomorrow, she's involved with the TV people all day." Tim dropped one hand from her shoulder and affectionately squeezed her deliciously firm thigh, he didn't have to look at it to recall his recent exhilarating acquaintance with her parted thighs. Candy/Annabel, he didn't care what she called herself, was his best friend and had been for a year. Was it possible for him to love two women at the same time, one his life-long soul mate who he hoped would be the mother of their children, the other his best buddy, a friend with benefits, at least until she settled down herself? Yes, he believed he could keep both sets of feelings for two people without detriment to either wonderful woman. They were almost the same person, so similar yet so different, he knew this way had the very best of all worlds. Every man in that barroom knew he was the damn lucky bastard tom cat who got all the cream. Annabel leaned on Tim's broad shoulders with both slim hands as she lowered herself off the stool, then wrapped one arm comfortably, naturally, around his waist, snatched up her purse and key with the other and led him towards the exit. She said quietly, "Candy needs you upstairs, big boy, now!" "And what does Candy charge by the afternoon nowadays?" Tim whispered in her ear. "Let's see now," Annabel mused, "You're fifty seven fifty in credit, right?" "Uh huh." "Well," Candy purred, "That should do nicely." The End