You Can Always Say No, Chapter 06 free porn video

You Can Always Say No, Ch_ 06 by Cherysse St. Claire © 2007 We pulled up in front of the professional building opposite the sprawling medical center. The intervening multi-story parking structure was well-lit, but sporadically populated with vehicles this long after business hours. "What are we doing here?" Angie questioned as we stepped out of the cab. "Baby, Faye and I have someone we want you to meet," I explained confidently. "Shelby is a friend of ours, a therapist..." Angie's hand tightened around mine apprehensively. "It's all right, Sweetie," I assured her. "Shelby works with girls like you to help them realize their dreams. We told her about you and she really wants to meet you. If we want the whole world to see and appreciate you for what you really are, this is the right place to start. We'll just chat for a little while, Baby; that's all. We need this - you need this." "But I - I..." I anticipated this. It's one thing to admit to your secret desires in private, to your spouse - or in this case, spouse and 'mother'. It's something else to come face-to-face with the first concrete step towards realization of those desires. I had experienced a similar reticence with Deirdre. She had required a little 'nudge'; so would Angie. "Shhhh," I murmured soothingly. "Everything will be fine. I understand it's scary for you. Do you remember what we talked about in the taxi? You don't have to worry about making the wrong choice. You have ceded that responsibility to me and I have made the choice for you. You want to be my girl. I want you to be my girl. Now, you are going to be my girl. How could that be wrong? See how easy that was? "I'll let you in on a little secret. Shelby adores girls like you, just as your mom and I do. All you have to do is be your sweet, sweet self and the two of you will get along famously. Faye and I will be right there with you for moral support. Now, let's get inside. Shelby is expecting us." It was the tiniest of little white lies. Faye had said Shelby was not into T-girls to quite the same extent as we, but I wasn't so sure. She had admitted to us she enjoyed counseling girls in transition and was affiliated with several local gender support groups. I was willing to bet, she didn't see many as good as my Angie. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but... *** Our meeting with Shelby was a mixed blessing. After some initial shock at how 'turned out' Angie was - in Faye's own style, with which Shelby was already well-versed - Shelby was enchanted with my sissy hubby. The four of us chatted together for thirty minutes, then Shelby asked Faye and me to leave the room so she could chat with Angie privately. I didn't like cooling my heels in the outer office for thirty minutes at all. My place was by Angie's side, representing her best interests. Faye assured me this was a necessary part of the process, to ensure this is what Angie really wanted. Of course she wanted it! We had agreed on that just a little while before, in the cab. I had forged a career around my ability to take responsibility and get things done. Being reduced to the status of 'bystander' was anathema to me. In the end, Shelby had been in favor of recommending Angie for Hormone Replacement Therapy - with a few reservations. She expressed concern about the lack of a 'real life test', in which Angie lived as a female full-time. The therapist wanted to continue seeing Angie for a while to make certain her desire was genuine. Genuine! What was I, chopped liver? My company paid me six figures to make that kind of judgment call. I had diplomatically asked her if it would make a difference if Angie embarked on this 'real life test'. "Certainly," Shelby had replied. "It would be a strong indicator of her commitment to transition. That sort of 'sea change' in one's life doesn't come about easily, particularly when a career is involved. If Angie decided she wanted The Change badly enough to face even that hurdle, I don't see how I could deny her sincerity." That was certainly food for thought - especially in light of the evening ahead. I was buoyant with anticipation of a bright, shining future for us that was within my grasp. *** The cab dropped us off in front of what could only be described as a gothic-looking castle in the middle of a Near-North neighborhood. I was still floating on air, as I had been since stepping out of Shelby's office. Despite our first stop, it was still early; barely nine-thirty. As we approached the door, I crashed back to earth with a resounding thud. As was often the case with new nightclubs, the looming, body-builder bouncer was carding everyone, regardless of gender or sex appeal. Yeah, okay; Alan was twenty-four years old and had the ID to prove it. I supposed it was inevitable, despite her surreal passability, she would be 'outed' somewhere along the way. In light of recent events, it might even be desirable. She would have to become tough enough to endure this embarrassing - and potentially dangerous - facet of transition. Was she ready for this? Was I? Was the 'gatekeeper' going to be cool with this, or a macho asshole? I was going over the permutations of my rebuke to the doorman's possible snide comments when we stepped up to the velvet rope. "Good evening, Ladies," he greeted oh, so smoothly. "May I see your identification, please?" "You flatterer, you," Faye schmoozed, handing her card over with a wink. He examined her ID with a suave smile and cursory glance, taking only a bit more time with mine, then turning expectantly to Angie. Before I could get a word in edgewise, she retrieved her ID from the inside pocket of her purse and handed it to him expectantly. My sissy certainly has balls, I thought, for a functional castrate. Mr. Olympia took his own sweet time scrutinizing Angie's credentials, then glanced up at her face, then examined the card once more. What was he doing; memorizing Alan's vitals so he could tell his buddies at the gym about the 'fag' that had tried to get into the club the night before? Perhaps he was committing our address to memory so he could swing by with his buds and give my sissified hubby a little 'tune-up' later? What did he think he was, NYPD Blue? "Thank you, Angela," he intoned with a gleam in his eye, "Happy Birthday. Ladies, welcome to Neo. Enjoy your evening." He handed back Angie's ID as pretty as you please. The velvet rope parted like the Red Sea for Moses - and we were inside. I knew I had somehow been 'had'. I kept my mouth shut. We found an available booth, illuminated by a single flickering tabletop candle, and slid into the plush, semi-circular bench. A waitress appeared almost immediately and took our drink order. As she departed, I held out my hand to Angie, palm up. "Okay," I demanded, "let's see it." She adopted a look of wounded innocence which was ruined almost immediately by her giggle. She opened her purse, fished the identity card out of its pocket and extended it to me, gracefully clasped between two fingers. "You mean this?" "Yeah, Miss Butter-Wouldn't-Melt-In-My-Mouth," I groused, snatching it away from her. "This." I adjusted the card proximate to the candle to allow the maximum illumination possible to fall on it. To my astonishment, the authentic-looking driver's license had been issued to Angela Faye de Castro, residing at what I knew to be Faye's home address. The picture was definitely Angie; no trickery there. The card showed today to be her birthday - her twenty-first birthday! The lettering was crisp; the state seal hologram and safety watermarks all appeared genuine. Our drinks arrived. I handed the card back to Angie, then raised my glass and turned to Faye. "You never fail to amaze me," I marveled. "That has to be the best fake ID I have ever seen. It even shows our girl to be old enough to drink legally, after we have been telling everyone she is eighteen. That's a nice touch." "Thank you," Faye acknowledged, "but it happens to be the real deal. I took Angie over to DMV a few weeks ago. I brought along my baby's birth certificate for authenticity. The card arrived in the mail yesterday. You see, this really is my baby's birthday. That's why I asked you two out tonight. Thank you both for sharing it with me." "Faye, we wouldn't turn down an invitation from you, regardless of the occasion," I responded, then furrowed my brow in thought, "but the birth certificate would have shown Angie to be eighteen, not twenty-one." "I know," Faye smirked, winking. "I have a friend who is a supervisor at that DMV office. I called him the day before we went. He was on hand to personally escort us back to his office, where I, ah... pulled some strings, so to speak. He was yummy." I was glad I hadn't taken a sip of my drink yet; I would have choked on it, laughing. "Let me see if I understand this correctly," I challenged, looking directly at Angie. "You now possess..." "... a fake fake ID," she finished glibly. We clinked glasses, then had to set them down on the tabletop until the laughing fit passed. So, why did I have a vague sense of uneasiness about this new development? Perhaps I should have thought of a discreet, plausible reason to hold on to her ID for her... It was an amazing evening. We drank more than we should have on a work night, but certainly not enough to incapacitate us. We were, by far, the most popular stop for men seeking dance partners - and all three of us said 'yes' far more than 'no'. As the evening wore on, we were having a giddy, giggly good time. When we weren't dancing, the talk around the table turned to Sex. Not unexpectedly, Faye was a wealth of anecdotes about lovers, their penis sizes and shapes, and where she had done them - or they had done her - and her favorite positions and techniques. She loved it all; vaginal, oral, anal, light bondage, multiple partners, double-penetration, even airtight. Angie was not in the least put off by this talk of cock. In fact, she seemed fascinated, even enthusiastic over Faye's depictions of past debauchery. Heartened by this, I encouraged Angie to tell her 'mama' about her own experiences with her 'husband' - me. She didn't disappoint, regaling us with 'his' size, how sublime it was to be taken, used by him, and how much she absolutely adored giving him long, slow, deep, sweet blowjobs. Even a heavy-lidded Faye was rubbing her thighs together as Angie described it. "Oh, how I wish I could have seen that," she pined. "My baby really is all grown up. There is so much of her life I have missed. What about you, Donna? Tell us about the cocks you have known and loved." I cast a wary eye towards Angie. I was not sensing any danger signals from her. She seemed as caught up in it all as before, as though we really were girlfriends out for a night on the town. "C'mon, Donna," Angie chirped. "Tell us. Don't be such a prude." In the face of such a challenge and tipsy as I was, I didn't mind recounting my favorite sex ever, starting with that magnificent fuck from Angie and her 'strap-on', some of my best experiences with Alan, then some of the studs that had come and gone in my life, going back to an hysterical romp in a tricked-out Chevy with my high-school- quarterback boyfriend. Then came the inevitable comparison of cock sizes, techniques, and all the other sex talk inebriated girlfriends share during a girls' night out. I don't think I was the only one getting horny as a result. I was taking a break in the booth, my shoes off, massaging my feet. Faye and Angie were on the floor, dancing together. What a voyeuristic delight! I was indulging myself in one of my favorite pastimes; people-watching. I scanned the crowd, watching the people watching my companions, and observing the individual melodramas play out; boyfriends getting slapped by their miffed girlfriends for ogling, groups of women making what was obviously catty remarks about the pair, and groups of guys making their own analyses, or comparing notes on how to approach the duo. I checked the time display on my cell phone. Hurry up guys, I thought, your window of opportunity is closing. I happened to notice an exceptionally attractive couple dancing next to Faye. He was a tall, handsome, distinguished-looking African- American gentleman, perhaps forty-something. The body under his crisp, well-tailored suit could have been that of a professional athlete. There was something in his demeanor that said he was comfortable both with authority and the skin he was in. His dance partner was a beautiful twenty-something Redhead with a peaches-and- cream complexion and slender, shapely body. What most captured my attention was the attention they were paying to Faye and Angie, who seemed completely oblivious to their admiring neighbors. Similar to others I had been observing, the other couple couldn't seem to take their eyes off the two brassy blondes. Unlike the others, their smiles and whispered asides appeared to be of genuine admiration. If the Redhead felt any animosity towards them, she didn't indicate it. To the contrary, she seemed every bit as fascinated as her companion. From my angle, her 'accidental' bump of Faye was anything but. Angie noticed the other couple for the first time at that moment. I didn't see any subsequent contact between Faye and Angie, but my sweetie stumbled all the same. Only the lightning reflexes of the Redhead's companion saved her from falling. I thought his hands lingered on Angie a bit longer than was necessary to save her from falling. Apologies were offered, some small talk was exchanged, and the two couples began dancing together as a foursome. Although I was more than a little uncomfortable with the way the Redhead was making eyes at Angie, I couldn't tear my eyes away from this unexpected, unplanned scene playing out before me. Oh, the possibilities... The foursome returned to our booth and slid in; first Faye, followed by the Redhead, then Angie, with the Redhead's escort taking the outside. We made our introductions. He was Jerome; she, Trisha. Seizing the opportunity, I introduced myself, then my friends, Faye and her daughter Angie. Although our new guests were anything but rude to me, they were clearly smitten with my companions. For her part, Angie was clearly nervous. Her first act upon taking her seat was to down the remainder of her drink in a single swallow. The consummate gentleman, Jerome ordered another round for everyone. The conversation drifted once again to Sex. Jerome and Trisha were obvious 'players' - and touchy-feely ones, at that. I stifled my urge to rip the redheaded hussy's lungs out as she alternated between fondling Faye's luscious curves and my Angie's. After all, I had intentionally hidden our relationship from the pair in hopes of exactly this scenario playing out. All for the greater good, Donna. Despite her earlier unease, Angie was responding to the attentions of the sensual pair, as I had hoped she would. Jerome made no bones about his attraction to Angie. Actually, that wasn't accurate. If Angie's increasingly-fevered ministrations under the table were any indication, her ebony suitor had a formidable bone down South. Trisha's hand covered Angie's, encouraging my sissy to fondle her first genuine hunk of manmeat. At the same time, she whispered words of encouragement in Angie's ear, helped along by the tip of her darting tongue. This bimbo was rapidly staking a claim to the top spot on my Ten Most Hated list. Faye looked on with heavy- lidded eyes, breathing heavily at the sight of her baby's seduction at the hands of our guests. Trisha was spending considerable time ensuring Faye's arousal was more than just voyeuristic delight. "Do it," Faye crooned softly. "I want to see it." I knew immediately what she meant. Angie raised her eyes to me, in search of confirmation. I nodded imperceptibly. "Me too," I trilled, winking. With the pounding Techno beat filling the air around us, I sensed, rather than heard the subtle rrrriiiipppp of Jerome's zipper coming undone. After some deft hand movements, Angie's head began bobbing up and down over his lap. Trisha rested her hand lightly on Angie's head, more in affirmation than command. I couldn't help it; I had to see this for myself. I slipped out of my side of the booth and stepped next to Jerome. There was my Angie, her exquisite talons wrapped around a truly amazing black fuckpole, making sweet, passionate love to that rod with her lips and talented tongue. My mind turned to mush at the sight of this yearned-for fantasy coming true. Faye swallowed hard to avoid drooling. Her left hand was under her skirt; her right, massaging one of her pendulous globes. Trisha turned to the sound behind her and softly gasped at the lewd, erotic sight. Leaning forward, she covered Faye's plush lips with her own in a gentle kiss, slipping her left hand between Faye's right and her breast, while Trisha's right hand joined Faye's left beneath her hem. Startled, I suddenly realized I was fondling myself in exactly the same way. Angie was taking her sweet time with her new paramour, just as I had taught her. Jerome leaned back against the booth's wall, eyes closed, lost in his own private Nirvana. Still, no man can hold out forever under such a determined assault. He grunted like a rutting animal as his hips bucked, ejecting his load into Angie's eager mouth. She, in turn, claimed every precious drop for her own. Faye and Trisha, who were now fondling each other's snatches while keeping one eye apiece on the erotic tableau unfolding before them, both shuddered to their own climaxes. I was a mere heartbeat behind. I had to return to my seat quickly, before my legs buckled beneath me. In time, Jerome opened his eyes, turned towards his redheaded companion and nodded. She winked conspiratorially. Both turned their attention to me. "Donna," Trisha purred. "We really hate to break up your Girls' Night Out, but could you find it in your heart to lend us your girlfriends? Jerome is leaving town in a couple of days and I promised him a proper... sendoff. As it happens..." She turned and smiled coyly at Faye before returning her gaze to me. "... I think I could find something to keep myself amused as well. Will you forgive us?" I gave her this much; this bitch had brass balls the size of my clenched fists. This threw a monkey wrench into my plans, not to mention the very thought of this trollop making time with my Angie drove me up the wall. Still, I think fast for a living and the alcohol had not diminished my capacity that much. I realized I might yet turn this new situation to my advantage - if I could just keep my rage in check. "I'm fine with it," I lied smoothly. "If you will just give Angie and Faye a ride home after, I would appreciate it." "Done," she mewed kittenishly. "I promise we won't keep them out too awfully late." "Perhaps I should stay here and keep you company," Faye offered graciously. She was a true friend. As much as I appreciated her generous offer, the thought of that fiery-maned witch having my sissy hubby alone, boyfriend or no boyfriend, was more than I could handle. I trusted Faye. "Go, have a good time," I urged genuinely. "If anyone deserves it, it is you. I'll be fine here." Faye cupped my cheek with her hand, gently scraping my flesh with her talons in the way Angie did so well. "I'll call you soon," she murmured, smiling. They all slid out and made their way towards the rear corridor. My guess was, Jerome had eschewed the valet service in favor of self- parking in the rear lot. He and Trisha flanked Angie. Each had one hand on her full, rounded ass. Trisha's other hand was on Faye's. I marveled at the way mother's and daughter's fluid tushes undulated in perfect harmony. I sat there, alone, for long moments, lost in a sexual rush. The thought of the two of them, together in a m?nage, was an incredible turn-on - especially in light of what it would mean to me later on. My musings were interrupted by lips pressing against mine. I sensed his bulk, his manliness, his indisputably male essence and needed him badly. I reached up, wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him to me, devouring him with my mouth. We kissed madly until my body screamed for air. "Wow, Babe," Jason gasped. "I'm sorry I'm late. If I knew I was going to get this kind of reception, I'll be late more often. Where are they?" "Change of plans," I gushed, still grasping for breath. "They just left - with a couple of playmates." "Damn," my lover cursed. "I was really looking forward to finally seeing the little twerp in full drag. I figure I've earned it, after playing this little charade for so long." Sometimes I really hate men. If it weren't for his big cock and what he could do for me and my sissy hubby, I would have kicked this jerk's ass to the curb long ago. "For the umpteenth time," I corrected carefully, "she doesn't do 'drag'. I am changing her into the sissy shemale she wants to be and I crave. I need you to help make that a reality." "You need me for a lot more than that, Sweetheart," Jason bragged. "From what you have told me, a whole lot more." I couldn't hold out anymore. His closeness was overwhelming; my body was screaming for release. "Yeah, like right now, Stud," I growled, yanking him down by his designer silk tie. "Give it up." "Here?" he questioned incredulously, glancing around at the crowds. "Yes, right here," I hissed, jerking up my skirt to expose my bald, pantie-less snatch, "right now. Fuck me, you bastard!" I pulled the arrogant swine into the booth's dark recesses with me. We fumbled at his trousers like novices, finally unzipping him and exposing his cockflesh. He might not have been as impressive as Jerome, but he was longer than Alan and a lot fatter. I grabbed that throbbing, familiar girth, pressed it to my pussy lips, then grabbed his buns and jerked him into me, hard. After the events of the last hour, I needed him desperately. Realization had come slowly, over time. As I penetrated the thin veneer of boyish charm, I had discovered Jason Miller was just another superficial, self-involved egoist. I no longer attempted to rationalize my sex (I wouldn't even dignify it with the term "affair") with him. Yes, it was good - sometimes. Yes, he got me off, although he really didn't give a damn whether he did or not, as long as he came. It wasn't better than sex with Angie. She and I used strap-ons (I had her use a strap-on on me, rather than releasing her from her chastity. It was all part of her sissy training.) that made my toes curl; much bigger than Jason. I just sometimes craved the real thing. More to the point, I couldn't have accomplished what I already had with Angie, nor what I wanted to accomplish in the future, without Jason's willing participation. I didn't particularly like the 'harness' this dildo was attached to anymore, but it was a necessary evil and, on good days, a pleasurable one. This was a very good day, thanks to the 'foreplay' before Jason's arrival. I grunted like a sow in heat as his schlong pistoned me. I came twice before his snake gushed its load like a fire hose, then came again as I felt him fill me with his spunk. It took a while before the mist cleared from in front of my eyes. "Your place or mine?" Jason asked without preamble. "Mine," I insisted. "I've got a plan to salvage this evening." "Just call me P?t?," he grumbled, zipping his pants. An apt description, but I didn't need to tell him at that moment. "I didn't mean you, Lover," I schmoozed. "I meant what I... we had in mind for my hubby." We canoodled by the front door as the valet brought up Jason's E500 Sport. I had insisted on taking a cab earlier so I wouldn't have to worry about jockeying cars later; the silver Mercedes would have accommodated all four of us easily. Faye had told me it wasn't cheating if we shared. I had planned to take her at her word that evening - literally. The situation hadn't worked out exactly as I had planned it, but I was already envisioning a viable workaround. At the moment, I had pressing personal needs. I touched up my lipstick and straightened my hair in the passenger visor's vanity mirror as the smooth German V-8 propelled us through the night streets. "So, what kept you so long?" I asked my companion, allowing a touch of annoyance to creep into my voice. "I've been stroking a bigwig from the Pentagon all day," Jason grumbled. "We're ready to do a preliminary presentation for our bid. He flew in early, so I've been giving him the Grand Tour, taking him to lunch, buttering him up. I noticed him eyeing my secretary, so I pawned him off on her. I gave her my corporate Platinum card and told her to show him a good time. I also told her to take tomorrow off if she needed to, as long as the General was available for our meeting Friday morning." "That was awfully decent of you," I replied, trying not to allow my disgust to show. "I thought so," he responded, nonplused. "It's nothing the Big Boys don't do. Besides, I'll do whatever I have to do to get this contract." "Including taking credit for all of Alan's hard work?" I insinuated. Jason grinned. "He does have his uses," he gloated. "That was the deal, right? I pull him out of his department, set him up in his own office and look the other way while you do whatever it is you are doing to him. In return, he does what he does best to get this contract for me - and you and I get it on twice a week, sometimes more. Don't even try to tell me these Tuesday and Thursday nights haven't been good for you, Baby. Nobody is that good at faking it." I didn't want to give the smug son-of-a-bitch the satisfaction of knowing they had been. At the same time, it might have ruined everything to tell him at that point, what really got me off during our sex was the thought of Angie watching Jason fucking me - and perhaps participating. I had learned early; Jason was an unapologetic homophobe and he regarded my sissy hubby as exactly that. That was just one more unattractive thing about the man, but I still needed him. At the same time, he still had not met Angie in all her glory. She was a male fuck fantasy, and then some. Who knew what his reaction might be? I gritted my teeth. "You know I can't do that, Lover," I purred, dripping with sincerity. "You're too damn good. Get me home and I will show you how appreciative I am." The new, revised plan was elegantly simple: fuck like bunnies and wait for Angie to come home and catch us in bed. You left me to have your fun with Jerome, Trisha, and Faye, Dear. I was lonely and Jason just happened to show up. Aren't I entitled to my own pleasure? The fact she had openly and willingly gone home with a man, violating our vows in the most flagrant way, merely reinforced my argument. Once I had established the pattern of us each having our respective male lovers, in addition to the rich love life we already shared, there would be no further barriers to our own version of 'living happily ever after.' If that meant continuing to fuck Jason to allow Angie to 'come out' at work, thus going full-time and facilitating her transition, so be it. It's not like the arrogant ass was a bad lay.... The story wasn't without its flaws. Jason just happened to show up? That sounded lame even to me, but Angie would have no proof otherwise. There was no way I was going to tell her I had been fucking her boss since that first Tuesday night class with Faye. I had known since the first moment our eyes met; Jason Miller would do anything to slip his dick into my tight, wet pussy. I merely had to call him up that morning after Alan left for work, set my terms; then show up that night and 'hold up my end', so to speak, to seal the deal. I had been racked with guilt that first time; coming home with my pussy full of another man's cum. As I hurriedly cleansed myself in the shower, I had visions of treading that same tragic path my mother had walked before me. Then, when my Angie walked through that front door, looking as fine as she did, I just knew it would all be worthwhile. My little treasons actually did get easier in time. I also had a greater appreciation for Faye's outlook on life. I still needed that masculine cock, but needed my gorgeous, sissified Angie even more. I would just have to find some balance between the two. Jason had arranged his occasional 'apology tour' dinners as an ego boost, subtly flaunting Alan's cuckolding in his face. I hadn't enjoyed that part of it, but went along to get along. I will admit; I got tingly playing the dual roles of dutiful loving wife to my husband and shameless cheating slut to my lover. Jason's under-the- table advances were relentless; sometimes, I allowed them to be successful to keep him interested. Later, we had even fucked in Jason's office after the rest of the staff had gone home. Jason occasionally stroked his own ego by making Alan work late on those occasions, so Jason could hump me over his desk while my husband toiled right down the hall. My cover story, if seen coming or going, was impeccable; I was working with Jason on his media campaign, even as Alan was firming up the particulars of the contract bid that campaign was designed to support. Then I could take my husband to dinner and compare our busy, productive days. Seeing Jason's inner sanctum confirmed everything I had come to dislike about him as a person. His 'Me' wall took the concept of self- aggrandizement to new heights - or depths? Framed diplomas, certificates, and other awards, mostly honorary, were hung in two rows along the wall behind his desk. The credenza beneath them was a maze of trophies: Football, baseball, track, tennis, golf, even one large, garish one touting him as "Big Man On Campus" at his university. There is actually an award for that? Alan never caught us; nor did any of the other office staff. In fact, I hadn't even met Jason's secretary; she had been hired after Gayle left, to split off those functions from the job description and free Alan to concentrate on the project. I'm pretty sure Jason would have gotten off on making my husband his secretary, but he wanted the millions from the contract more. Knowing how close Jason's secretary and other staffers were to my hubby, I was grateful for not having to face them. They couldn't report to my husband what they didn't know. I would never want my Angie to agonize over any of this. What I had done, I did for us. Still, if I tingled over the dinners, I took a genuine perverse delight in portraying the slut wife scant yards away from my loving husband. Now I was ready to close that gap and bring Angie into the scene itself; no more hiding, no more guilty conscience. I would love to say I hated every moment I spent in our bed with Jason, waiting for Angie to 'discover' us. That just wasn't so. Among his other faults, Jason had a pipeline to the Little Blue Pill. So, we 'honeymooned' in Viagra Falls, taking turns at falling over the precipice or leaping there together. I didn't worry about sneaking around or hurrying to get cleaned up before my mate came home; I wanted to be found out. The digital readout on the bedside clock told the tale: One AM, Two AM, Three AM, but no Angie. Dawn broke. I called in sick; so did Jason. We dozed, awoke, showered, then fucked again; still no Angie. 'We won't keep them out too terribly late.' Damn that redheaded bitch! I hadn't even gotten her phone number. Angie's cell was off. Calls to Faye's home went to her answering machine. The MAC store said she had arranged to take the day off. A quick check back with Miller Avionics confirmed; Alan had taken the day, too. At least I knew they were still alive. I started to seethe. Was Angie trying to taunt me? Was this her way of asserting her independence, as Alan had once done? Why now? The questions kept repeating themselves in my mind, over and over. The answer kept coming back to the beautiful, redheaded Trisha. Jerome is leaving in a couple of days. Not "my husband is leaving" or "the love of my life is leaving". She also hadn't given any indication he was coming back. Had the witch staked a claim to my Angie in his place before the body was even cold? Had Wednesday been some bizarre 'Changing of the Guard' ritual, where Jerome had approved of his replacement with a nod of his head? Or had he been placing an order 'to go' and Trisha helped him fill it? What about Faye? Why would she go along with any of this? Was everyone but me being a selfish, uncaring slut? Well, I'll show them a thing or three! Jason had been teasing me with his cock, attempting to re-direct my passions back to him. He had taken a double-dose of V as a lure. It worked. I turned on him and gave him my undivided attention, inhaling his engorged stick to the root. Once I had him throbbing, begging for release. I sank that turgid tool into my sex until bone scraped bone. We fucked like maniacs all afternoon and into the night. The more I came, the more I craved. I wasn't aware what time we passed out, nor how long we slept. I was awakened by mid-morning sun streaming through the windows onto my eyelids. Awareness came slowly, like a dense fog lifting along the shore. I eased myself to a sitting position and took stock of my surroundings. The bed qualified for FEMA intervention; spread, blanket, sheets, and pillows scattered wildly, as though a bomb had gone off and this was Ground Zero. Birds chirped in the trees outside. A lawnmower rose and fell in crescendo as its operator plied the rows of some nearby lawn. Jason snored peacefully on the opposite side of the bed, mouth ajar. I had learned one more of his not-so- endearing traits in the night; when the sex was over, he hated to cuddle. His 'five o'clock shadow' read somewhere around forty-eight o'clock. Other than that, the house was peaceful, serene. I shook him gently and received a small groan for my efforts. A sharp shove to his shoulder knocked him to the floor with a resounding thump. "What did you do that for?" came the disembodied growl. "Time to get up, Lover," I chirped, syrupy-sweet. I heard, rather than saw him scratch his head as he lay on the floor. At least, I hoped it was his head. "What time is it?" he inquired. I checked the readout on the bedside clock. "Ten forty-five," I replied. Nothing happened for a moment. Then, he was on his feet in a flurry of motion. "Fuck!" he shouted, gathering up his clothes. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" "Been there, done that," I replied dreamily. "Don't you remember?" "Why didn't you wake me?" he railed. "The presentation was supposed to begin at ten o'clock!" "Gee, I'm sorry, Honey," I cooed. "You must not have left a message for a Wake-Up Call at the Front Desk. They're usually pretty good about those things." With some awkward hopping around, he managed to get his boxers, socks, trousers and shoes on. His shirt was half-tucked, half-not. He grabbed his tie, suit coat and car keys and raced for the door. "Call you later," he tossed over his shoulder. "Anytime," I replied diffidently to the empty space in the doorway. *** I went to the bathroom, peed, brushed my teeth, then returned to the bedroom and retrieved my laptop. I phoned the office, told my secretary I would be working from home today, and asked her to download my messages to e-mail. Logging in to the company server through VPN, I downloaded my mail, then synced my PDA for relevant messages and phone numbers. I spent the rest of the morning returning calls, setting appointments, mapping strategies. Then I took a long, leisurely shower. There was no hurry. I knew my Angie would be home soon and I wanted to look my best for her. *** She arrived around three PM, well ahead of her normal time. Hearing her pull into the garage, I was waiting for her in the foyer, dressed in my floor-length black silk dressing gown. She - and it was she - closed the door behind her and leaned against it. She was wearing a two-piece charcoal-grey skirt suit with wide-spread lapels, nipped-in peplum waist, and fitted skirt that ended at mid-thigh. Sheer black hose graced her shapely legs, ending in simple black patent pumps with five-inch stiletto heels. Her white silk blouse was open to the cleft of her lapels, revealing a generous amount of her deep cleavage. It was obvious from her hourglass shape she was tightly- corseted. The makeup and understated jewelry were perfect, just on the provocative side of business-proper. A full, fluffy mane of Platinum Blonde curls swirled around her face, cascading over her shoulders and down to mid-back. A faint trace of Obsession completed the picture. She extended both arms, offering an Oriental-style vase filled with two dozen red roses. Her longer, curving talons were readily apparent - and gorgeous. "For me?" I exclaimed with surprise. She nodded, smiling radiantly. "I had a really good day at work," she purred. "I wanted to share it with you - and bring you a little something to show how much I love you." "Thank you, Sweetie," I responded. "You look... stunning." The gorgeous Blonde actually blushed, then pivoted expertly on her toes, partially extending her arms. She halted her spin facing me, casually slipping the fingers of one hand under the top of a lapel, then sliding them down to the bottom. "You like?" she asked with a touch of uncertainty. "It's perfect for you!" I assured her sincerely. "Absolutely perfect." "I'm so glad you like it," she gushed. "I did it just for you. Well, I like it, too." I transferred the vase to my left hand and extended the right. "Come," I said. "Let's go into the living room and you can tell me all about your day. I've already poured us some wine." I slipped across the sofa, setting the roses down on the coffee table. Taking my seat, I raised my wineglass. "To us," I toasted. "To us," Angie echoed, clinking her glass against mine and taking a sip. "Mmmmm, yummy. A Pinot Noir? What's the occasion?" "I would say this is occasion enough," I observed, setting down my glass to gesture towards her with my hand. "So, you tell me; what is the occasion?" She took another sip of wine, barely able to contain her excitement. "We made the presentation this morning," she advised, glowing. "General Clayton was really impressed. He is going to recommend us to the full review board. Honey, we have a real shot at landing the contract." "That's wonderful!" I effused. "So, Jason made a good presentation, huh?" "Jason?" Angie snorted, taking another sip. "He missed it entirely. When ten o'clock came and it was apparent he wasn't going to show up, we had to think fast. I told the General Jason had called in and told us he had a real bad case of flu. We were in the car and had just pulled out of the parking lot to take General Clayton to lunch when I saw Jason in the rear view mirror, pulling in. I couldn't think of a good excuse for explaining his miraculous 'recovery', so I didn't mention anything." I had to smirk, picturing Jason rushing into an empty conference room. "So, if Jason wasn't there," I queried, "who is this 'we' that made the presentation?" Angie shrugged her shoulders just a little and smiled coyly, sipping from her glass. "I made the actual pitch," she admitted. "Patti backed me up with charts and data." "Patti... Jason's secretary?" I asked, stunned. "That's right," she confirmed. "And you made a pitch for a multi-million-dollar defense contract... to a General who flew all the way out from Washington..." I murmured, teasingly, "dressed like that?" She grinned sheepishly, like a kid who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Yuppers," she mewed, lowering her eyelids. "He liked it well enough. To be honest, I don't think he even glanced at the charts." "You went in to work... like that?" She couldn't stop giggling. She almost spilled her wine as she sipped. "It was Patti's fault," Angie professed, slipping me that heavy- lidded, bedroom-eyes look. "She outed me. She knew all along. She told all the other girls, too. She told me, if I didn't... show up this way, they would... tell everyone about the corset and stockings I wore under my suit every day." "She sounds like quite a girl," I attested. "I'll have to thank her when I meet her. So, you did all of this... this morning, before the meeting?" "Oh, no," she demurred. "It took most of the day yesterday. The hair took all morning..." "That isn't a wig?" "Uh-uh," she professed, fluffing her silky mane with her free hand, then shaking her head. "First we did the color, then extensions. Right now, it's just curled. We'll do the perm next week. I adore it!" "I do too, Baby," I assured her. "It's so you." "Suzi did my nails yesterday... afternoon," she gushed, holding out her arm, hand down. "See?" "I noticed them right away," I confessed. "They're exquisite." "Then we went... shopping to find this... suit and the shoes," she added, shaking her head a bit. "So, Sweetie," I interrupted. "That was yesterday and today was today. What happened to you Wednesday night? And last night? Why didn't you come home? Why couldn't you have at least called me to tell me you were all right? Was there something going on you didn't want me to know about?" She sat silently, sipping her wine, swaying gently, eyes unfocused. "Babyyyy," I murmured. "You've been a naughty girl, haven't you? A very naughty girl." Angie's eyelids drooped. Her body swayed towards me then paused, like a tree about to fall. I reached out and gently took her wineglass from her hand, then caught her with my other hand as her body sagged against me. "Mama's going to have to punish you," I purred. I allowed her to slump lengthwise on the couch as I leaned forward to inhale the aroma of the roses. They were lovely, and very thoughtful. I picked up my wineglass, took both to the kitchen, and poured them out in the sink. I then rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher. Taking a deep breath and exhaling heavily, I returned to the stairs and slowly, resolutely, made my way upstairs to change. There was no hurry; I had all the time in the world until the sedative wore off...