The Bet
"Want to make a more, uh, interesting bet?"
I stared across the table into the steel gray eyes. They blazed with
the fire of competition that characterized our relationship over the
years. I too felt combative juices rising. Nothing short of an
unequivocal answer would do.
"Yes."
"Since we started our business fifteen years ago, we've met the third
Thursday of each month to play cards. In the beginning, for match
sticks, it was fun. It was better when we graduated to pennies, then
serious money. Now we've both too much money. The excitement's gone-
agreed?
"Yes, come to the point." My eyes held steady.
"To regain the excitement, I propose the ultimate bet, new deck, one
hand, five card draw. The winner- and I state this succinctly, but
delicately as possible-gets to, shall we say, sleep with the losers
spouse."
I didn't flinch. I never show weakness, especially to my partner.
That had been the hallmark of our rise in the corporate world. We both
engaged in hard-fisted business dealings, quick decisions and ruthless
gutting of our competitors. But, it was an intriguing bet--not
collectable of course. Or, what didn't I know? I couldn't back down.
"Deal." I barked, but felt my gut heave. To steady myself, I sipped
wine and looked around the room. My partner cracked a new deck and
began to shuffle. We two were in our private room in an exclusive club
atop a building in Tampa. Years ago, we had purchased the building,
and started the club with its spectacular view of the bay and switched
our card game/meetings from the original ramshackle basement to our own
club. However, our meetings had changed over the years. In the
beginning there was excitement; a feeling of accomplishment. Now we
played lackadaisically and planned business options. All so boring. I
felt rising excitement as the cards were dealt.
Two tens, a seven, a three and a two, not bad I thought.
"Bet?" came from across the table.
This is a totally ludicrous bet, but two could play this game, I
reasoned. Carefully to show no emotion I answered, "Yes, the loser
must actively help the winner in the, ah, shall we say, seduction."
Intently I watched the gray eyes for a sign of weakness. There was
none.
"Cards?"
"Yes, three?" Damn, I knew my voice was shaking slightly, but I
covered by clearing my throat.
I picked up two threes and a queen. That made two pair, queen high;
defiantly a strong hand.
"Bet?"
Confidently I stared into the gray eyes. "Yes, the winner gets to tell
all to the loser in explicit detail, and the loser must listen." At
last, I got the reaction I wanted. For a second I saw the gray
eyes widen, then relax.
"Call."
In slow motion, my partner's hand turned. The fanned cards contrasted
starkly with the snowy whiteness of the starched tablecloth.
"Two pair, ace high," came from the smug voice across the table.
Damn, I'd lost to that bitch Alice.
"Well my dear, it's certainly been an interesting evening," I said
trying to hide my shock.
"Yes, Jean. I did enjoy it. It's late. Perhaps we'd better go now."
I avoided eye contact.
In the elevator, Alice turned to me. "Just a little bit of business.
One of us has to do something about Claudia."
"Yes," I agreed. "I'll start tomorrow."
Claudia was already in the office when I arrived. As always, she was
beautifully dressed, hair cut fashionably, little makeup. When she
stood and brought me messages and coffee, I noted that her figure was
abundantly displayed in a tight spandex top complete with that
ridicules mini skirt. Ten years younger than Alice or I, she -well,
she looked good as always. As she left my office, I noted that her
butt was still round and high, whereas mine had began to expand and
surrender to the forces of gravity. I dialed the employment agency on
my private line. I felt no remorse. Claudia was an excellent
secretary, but she distracted our male customers. We just couldn't
have that.
Hoping that last night's card game had been a bad dream, I threw myself
into a stack of papers. At ten thirty, the intercom went off. This was
our private line installed so we could easily communicate.
"Jean, I see by the schedule that you're having lunch with that
delicious hunk of a husband of yours at 12:30 today at the Windmyre?"
"Yes."
"Jean honey, you do remember our card game and--the bet?"
"Yes, Alice."
"I want you to call John at 12:30 and cancel."
"But, he'll already be there then?"
"Yes, honey and so will I. We'll just happen to meet, and since you
stood him up, I'm sure John will be a gentleman and ask me to join him.
After all, we two couples have know each other for ten years."
Steeling myself to show no emotion, I answered, "No problem. Consider
it done."
"Jean, I do love your honesty. By the way, you haven't seen me today.
I'm wearing the silk number you hate because you think it makes me look
trashy. I'll bet John will love it. I'm taking off my bra in the
washroom before I leave. Ta ta."
A burning sensation consumed me as I spent at least thirty minutes
immobilized, thinking about the last ten years. Jean and John. We'd
been for ten years and called ourselves "J" and "J." John was
an attorney in the same firm as Alice's husband Allen. "J" and "J"
friends of "A" and "A" was the private joke between the two couples.
Surely, John wouldn't fall for Alice's plans. I was certain he'd been
faithful during our marriage, and so had I. Well OK, there was that
executive in Orlando. After the corporate meetings, I had dinner with
him. We danced. We kissed. I let him feel my breasts. But that's
all there was. It didn't count.
I was interrupted by a call on my private line. It was the employment
agency with replacement names for Claudia.
Later, I went to the outer office, and told Claudia I had canceled
lunch and was going to the building snack bar instead. She turned,
fixed her beautiful blue eyes on me and smiled.
At three P.M., I heard Alice arrive and minutes later the intercom went
off. "Jean, thanks so much for your help. It was easier than I
thought. As planned, John invited me to lunch. We shared a bottle of
wine and talked about times. I'm sure he noticed I wore no bra. It
was a little chilly in the club. My nipples stood out nicely."
Bitch, I thought, "Glad you two had a nice time. Now we need to
discuss the merger with..."
"But Jean, honey, there's more. We ordered a second bottle, and I
excused myself to go to the ladies room. I removed my panties. When I
returned to the table, I told him to put his hand under the table. You
should have seen his face when I hooked them on his fingers-still warm
they were."
"And?" Determined to give her no satisfaction, I physically willed
myself to relax.
"And, you probably don't believe me. Check his coat pocket this
evening. Ta ta."
Damn, had it been that easy?
That evening over dinner I apologized to John for missing lunch. He
answered in monotones.
Later, I went to his closet and put my hand in the pocket of the coat
he'd worn that day. I felt smooth silk and my fingers burned as I
pulled Alice's into the light. Slut, I thought. There's
barely enough her to even bother to wear.
At 10:30, the next day the intercom buzzed. "Jean, how's it going with
the Claudia problem?"
"I have two interviews at the agency tomorrow. Should be able to find
a replacement and fire Claudia in the next two weeks."
"Good, now, uh I need more help on the uh bet."
In spite of myself, I exhaled in exasperation, "Yes, Alice."
"In two weeks there's a meeting in Orlando. I want you to attend. Make
the reservations today and make sure John knows you'll be out of town
all weekend."
Orlando, I thought. I'd told Jean about the businessman that kissed
and fondled me. She was twisting the knife.
"Jean, I'm coming to your office. I want your opinion of the note I
wrote for John."
She was as beautiful as ever. However, I did note with some
satisfaction that her roots were showing and her seemed to sag
more than usual.
She passed me a handwritten note.
"Lover
I'm so excited at the thought of our private weekend.
On the Friday before our rendezvous, you will receive directions
to the hotel. Yes, I'm teasing you. I want you to have private
fantasies concerning where and what I have planned.
Just to be discreet, I'm not using our names. I will be registered
as a Mrs. Smith. I will leave instructions to give a key to my husband
Mr. Smith.
When you come into the anteroom, take off your clothes except your
tie. I will be waiting for you in the bedroom. Bet you can't guess
what I have in mind.
Yours,
Mrs. Smith"
"Do you like it Jean?"
"Yes, very clever, but I don't understand the last paragraph."
"I'm planning something with John that I've always wanted to do. It
will only work with a first time lover. Allen would never do. I've
mentioned it to him, and he thinks it's silly. I purchased a leather
outfit complete with pushup bra and high boots. I guess it's the
dominatrix in me. You could never have guessed could you?"
I flashed a sardonic smile hoping she wouldn't miss it. She didn't.
Her eyes narrowed as she continued.
"When your naked husband enters the room, I'll be poised at the bed.
One booted leg will be up on the bed rail. He'll see that I'm
completely exposed. The outfit has no crotch. Whip in one hand, I'll
pull him down by his tie until his nose is buried in me. On the bed
will be a complete collection of toys for us to play with over the
weekend."
Calmly, I listened as she explained other perverse pleasures she had in
mind. I couldn't believe my husband would participate, but she seemed
confident and her were in his pocket. A plan formed in my
mind.
It was ridiculously simple to execute. Late in the afternoon, I called
Allen on some small pretext.
We chatted, then: "Allen, I'm going to Orlando next weekend."
"Damn Jean, guess I'm a bit jealous. I like Orlando. Haven't been
there in some time."
"Then why don't you come with me. Alice is going out of town. We can
do Orlando together. You've always been such a good friend and so nice
to me. I've often thought that, well, you and I..."
I let the sentence hang. There was silence. My gambling instincts
sharpened. Poker face, don't spoil the moment--I waited.
"Well ya, I guess..." I had him. So easy.
I called a favorite hotel in Orlando and booked a room. Then I
recalled Alice's instructions:
"Jean, in order to completely fulfill the bet, I want you to book my--
make that your husband and my-- room on the beach in Clearwater. Just
to make it more exciting, I want you to deliver my note with the map to
your husband. Isn't this fun?"
Damn, the bitch was enjoying this.
Thinking of Alice's note, I wrote my own to Allen.
"Lover
Come to me. I'm so excited at the thought of our private weekend.
On the Friday before our rendezvous, you'll receive directions to
the hotel. Yes, I'm teasing you. I want you to have private fantasies
concerning where and what I have planned.
Just to be discreet, I didn't use our names. I will be registered
as a "Mrs. Smith." I will leave instructions to give a key to my
husband, "Mr. Smith."
When you come into the anteroom, it will be completely dark. Look
into the bedroom. I'll be there. Just watch. I plan a special treat
just for you. Bet you'll have fun trying to figure out what it is.
Yours,
Mrs. Smith
I didn't share Alice's desire to be a dominatrix, but had to admit to
my own fantasy. I remembered the in Orlando. The exciting part
wasn't that he kissed and touched me; it was where we were--dancing in
an exclusive lounge. He had moved his hands from my back and was openly
caressing by breasts. I knew others could see us. I didn't care.
Instead, I allowed other dancers to see his movements.
I had little recollection of what he looked like, but often, late at
night, I remembered his hands and the other dancer's eyes. In my mind,
I replayed ending a dance and walking back to our table, his hand
casually on my cheeks to guide me. People were watching me and
whispering to each other. I had pulled back my shoulders and stared at
the women with their raised eyebrows and their with eyes fastened
on my uplifted breasts. At the table, I had unfastened two more
buttons of my blouse and asked him for another dance. Many times while
lying in bed with my husband, the remembrance of his caresses made my
nipples hard. On a few occasions, I brought myself to orgasm at just
the thoughts.
I've always tried to deny my bent toward exhibitionism. I'd seen
looking up my skirt, but usually shifted to disrupt their view. Yes,
"usually," I thought. But then I remembered the guilt that followed on
the occasions when I had convinced myself that they could see nothing
and let them continue. I compensated for my frustrations by berating
Alice for her somewhat risqué outfits. But deep down I had always
known, and I now admitted to myself, that I loved the thought of
purposefully exposing myself, especially to strangers.
The Friday arrived. Not wanting to trust Claudia, I made arrangements
for the two packages in my desk to be delivered to Allen and John.
Ruefully I handed a package addressed to John to the first courier.
At 4 o'clock, I called Claudia and gave her notice. I told her the new
girl, whom I had interviewed and found to be comfortably plump, would
start Monday. She showed no emotion. Relieved I watched her pretty
rear end twitch out the door. She cleared her desk and left the
office.
I drove to Orlando on I-4 and checked in. I had a quick dinner
delivered to my room then showered. My instructions, delivered to
Allen, told him to arrive at the hotel at 8 P.M., pick up the key and
come to my room.
At 7:30, I switched off all the lights in the anteroom. In the bedroom,
I lit candles and placed them around the room. Slipping into a silk
robe, I lay on the bed. Satisfied that I was perfectly illuminated with
soft light to hide the ravages of time, I noted that Allen could remain
unseen in the anteroom.
At 8 P.M., I heard the door open, saw a brief shaft of light, then the
click of the lock. As instructed, Allen stayed in the shadows.
Taking a sip of wine to bolster my courage, I opened my robe. Both
breasts exposed, I touched the wine then put a cold drop of golden
liquid on each pink nipple. I was doing it--my fantasy--exposing
myself to an unseen man. Nipples fully erect, I spent delicious minutes
playing with each. Currents of pleasure shot from my to
virgina. Taking care not to look in Allen's direction, I contemplated
moving the silk gown off my hips to completely expose myself. But,
remembering those few extra pounds, and the fact that I didn't look as
good as Claudia, I opted to move my hand under the robe. I knew Allen
could see movement under the silk. Slowly I worked it down my body,
clearly destined for the warm place between my legs. My hand reached
my pubic hair, and I hesitated, playing with the silky curls. The
pleasure of what I was doing was almost overwhelming. My thoughts went
to the businessman with whom I had danced. He had touched my leg, but
I stopped him. I should have let him feel my thighs. I should have let
him slide his fingers up under my panties. I should have taken him to
my room. No, not that. It was the pleasure of exposure. If I had let
him touch me under my skirt while others watched...
My hand slipped over my mound, I inserted two fingers. The pleasure
was delicious. I was doing the ultimate --masturbating in front of a
stranger. Well, almost a stranger; this was perhaps even more wicked--
another woman's husband. The wetness flowed over my fingers. I turned
to the door and moaned...
"Allen..."
-0-
Relaxing in a comfortable chair overlooking Tampa Bay, Claudia sipped
expensive champagne and watched the curve of the bridges as they raced
towards St. Petersburg. Silly bitches, she thought. She knew they
were going to fire her. She had managed to get one of their club cards
and was now enjoying the evening in their private club, at their
expense. Since she looked a lot like Alice, (except she knew her
breasts were better) it was easy to get in.
She looked at a waiter who eyed her hungrily. He appeared to be
about 19, cute, but lots of pimples. Each time he moved to the table to
refill her flute, she shifted to allow him to peek further down her
top. Maybe, she thought, I'll tell him I'm Alice. Since I kept a
duplicate key, I'll take him to her office. While he sits on Alice's
couch, I'll lick his little cock. Won't suck him. Want him to last
long enough to do me doggie style while I lean over the bitch's desk.
He'll talk, of course, and the news will be all over the building the
next day. What a fun way to start a rumor.
Luckily I also fucked the telephone guy and had him tap their private
lines. Sure would love to see their faces tonight when they discover I
looked in Jean's desk and switched notes to their husbands.
|
|
