My Wife. His Whore. free porn video

My Wife. His Whore.

by Victor Mann

Leena and he had been married for 25 years and their life had been good,he thought. No doubt they had gotten married young and had kids rather tooquickly, but theirs had been a close-knit family, it had seemed, and both thechildren, now attending college on the other coast, were happy and well adjusted.Money had not been a problem. His accounting firm had been modestly successfuland Leena had developed a good career in academia as a professor of Women’sStudies at a small private college. Perhaps it was the change in the householdafter the children had gone that had affected Leena so much. Over the lastmonths she had ended up locked in her office in the house, on-line on her computer,night after night, until sometimes early in the morning. Maybe the distancethat she showed him now was really no more than she had showed him for severalyears. Perhaps he just hadn’t noticed. Children are hard work and thathad been the task at hand. He hadn’t thought too much about their ownrelationship, the relationship between her and him. Now he could see that thatrelationship was in real danger.

Lon had, in his usual way, studiously ignored theclues. Leena had been the champion of Birkenstocks and understated dress sincehe met her when she was 20. When she had begun to shop for expensive, fashionable,showy clothing, spending an incredible amount of money, he had just thoughtthat at the age of 46, she’d decided to let loose a little. It did seemincredibly contradictory but…

Lon had become accustomed over the years to hergoing to weekday, and occasionally weekend departmental meetings in the evening.She was, now, president of their small faculty senate and had always been activedepartmentally, too. Of course, in retrospect it had been really odd that shehad progressively begun to dress so provocatively to go to these “meetings.” Lastweek Saturday when he saw her slipping out the door dressed in high heels andevening dress he wanted to believe the note she had left for him, not botheringto talk to him directly, that there was a faculty party. If she had just notbeen so sneaky, he might not even have given it a thought. But through hisstrong denial he just had to acknowledge that something was very wrong. Asa feminist theoretician, Leena had been incredibly consistent over the yearsin regard to the issue of women’s fashion. She had for a long time championedthe feminist position that the fashion industry was one of the most dangerousarms of patriarchy. He remembered well the article that brought her to theattention of feminist academia that argued that Vogue magazine denigrated womenmore than even Playboy.

When Leena left at 6 on that Saturday night, Lon had decided to do somethinking, some assessment and some sneaking of his own. He went to Leena’soffice, which because of its separate bath and closet, she used as her dressingroom. He had never in their relationship checked up on her but he had a feelingher computer might hold the clue to what was happening. It had been more ofa companion to her than he had been over the last several months. They hadalways shared their computer passwords with each other, in case one of themhad a computer breakdown and needed it. It was easy for him to access her files.As he did so, he felt guilt, but he felt his trepidation much more strongly.Systematically, Lon opened each of the data folders on her desktop and whenhe reached the one entitled, “Slavery,” and began to read the lettersthere, his jaw dropped. There before him were carefully numbered letters thatshe had sent to a certain man and, along with them, the replies that he hadsent her. In a third row he found a dozen or more journal entries for the lastmonths.

Sampling one of his wife’s letters to the man, Lon was stunned andappalled. This was the contents:

Sir,

This cock-sucking whore begs your indulgence withher cunt thoughts, herein. she humbly thanks you for her initial cock-sucktraining. As you know I was shocked, at first, chatting on-line with you, whenyou said you that you wanted a woman to be a Prick-serving bitch and nothingmore. I’ve learned so much since then from You.

I do understand better now why non-smear lipstickis forbidden to me.

I felt proud that you were pleased by the neatred lipstick prints you made with my bitch mouth along the shaft of your stiffcock. I knew the expression, “giving head.” You call it, “takinghead,” and this whore knows now what you mean.

As you know, I had only sucked cock for two Menbefore, having been married for over 20 years. I do not have a lot of experience.My husband’s prick is only 5” long, when hard, and not so thick.Your thick, 8 1/2 inches does give me, “a mouth full of meat,” asyou have put it, in a way I have never experienced. However, I do fully understandwhy I had to be punished for gagging, when you thrust it deep into my mouth.(I know I will learn to control this.) I felt worse for the fact that I haddispleased you, than for the nipple clamps, which did hurt quite a bit. Youforced me to swallow every fucking last drop of Your cum. Thank you.

As for your astute question about my “feministscruples” and check-in in regard to limits, I know more surely than ever,as you have taken control of me over the last several weeks, that you havetouched a place deep within me, the place where my secrets are. I admire notonly your unflinching boldness in this, but also your

skillful wisdom. Let me put it within your fourstage development plan. I am still a bitch , striving to learn how tobe a good whore . I fully expect to be taught by You how to be a whoreslave andfinally a full-fledged slave . You, in Your Mastery, have opened upthe door for me to walk proudly through. No amount of feminist bullshit isgoing to prevent me from learning what I truly am. (And a skilled woman-trainerlike yourself knows full well that sometimes a cunt needs be be told thelimits and not asked . I beg your indulgence with the bitch way I putit, but you know that I am not shocked, nor fearful of the strict, rough andharsh methods you use.)

I know that you have already decided not to breakup my relationship with my husband. Just know that this cuntwhore will do astold, and will serve you, as and how You decide. You will not hear a cunt opinionfrom me in regard to breaking up or not breaking up my marriage.

Your cock-sucking whore,

Leena

The terror that the last paragraph of Leena’sletter brought him, overwhelmed the

revulsion and anger he felt at the entire rest of it. Leena was ready andwilling to leave him for another man whom she’d met only weeks ago! Lonstaggered from the desk chair and, not thinking of anything else to do, beganto investigate what Leena’s recent shopping binge had really been allabout. He opened Leena’s closet door to find the expensive skirts, blousesand dresses that she had recently bought hanging at one end.

They were satins, velvets and silks for the most part. Leena had always swornby cottons. They were all solid colors. Leena had a passion for prints. OnLeena’s shoe tree were seven new pairs of shoes, all with very high heelsand all in the same style. All were pointy-toed, closed-toed pumps with higharches; just exactly the kind of shoes that Leena, the feminist, had publiclysneered at as “slave shoes” for years.

Heart beating fast and tears welling in his eyes Lon opened the drawersin Leena’s dresser. In the first drawer were the cotton, white and pastelcolored panties and bras that belonged to the sensible Leena he had alwaysknown. In the second drawer he found her new lingerie in the colors black andred—frilly panties, frilly bras, crotchless panties, nippleless bras,frilly garter belts and many stockings, even seamed hose. This was a Leenahe had never known and furthermore didn’t want to know. The Leena heknew felt that stockings and even pantyhose were only meant to make women into, “sexobjects.” He had read all her early feminist screeds. More than eventhe dykes in her department, Leena argued that clothing that expressed, “traditionalfemininity,” was merely a sign of patriarchal oppression. Grasping weaklyat her third dresser drawer he came upon Leena’s new collection of bustiersand corsets. “Clothing for women in bondage,” Lon mouthed witha weak laugh.

Lon stumbled to the bedroom and laid down on the bed. He put his faceinto the pillow and wept until tears wouldn’t come anymore. He lay andthought. How could he save his marriage? He loved Leena so deeply and he thoughtthat that love was shared. What had happened? He thought of confronting herand demanding that she stop this nonsense. He thought he would start to beassertive with her and satisfy some of the crazy urges she had. Incapable ofimagining a way out, Lon decided, in deep pain and anguish, that he could onlyhope that somehow this perverse new passion of hers would eventually burn itselfout. He could only sit on the sidelines now, as painful and revolting as itwas, and let Leena do what she would. He knew that he could be hard-nosed ina business context, but he was pathologically averse to conflict in interpersonalrelationships. He wondered whether it might not just be true what the “new” Leenathought: he was just a weak man.

When Leena came home after midnight, Lon pretended to be asleep. He becameaware, as she came to bed that she smelled of heavy perfume. Fuck! She’dsmelled that way a half dozen times in the last weeks! “Whore stink,” iswhat she had always called it. He could practically cite the passage in her RadicalFeminist Digest article of 1982 that said that and worse. Only the FBIlooks so close and sees so little as a married man in love.

“Lonny, aren’t you going to get up this morning?” Leenasaid in a disgusting, guiltless tone the next morning.

“Honey, I’m totally exhausted from the audit season. I’mgoing to stay in bed. Maybe later I’ll get up and do some work aroundthe house.”

“Oh, hon,” she said with what sounded like sympathy. “Ihope you aren’t coming down with something.”

“No, no,” he said. “It’s just overwork.”

Leena had a conference to go to on feminist ethics that day.

“Are you home late tonight, hon,” he asked.

“I’ll see,” she said vaguely. Had she been so vagueover the last years?

After Lon had showered and had breakfast, he decided the only thing hecould do would be to learn as much as he could about his wife’s affairfrom her computer files.

His guilt was gone. He was trying to protect his family.

Lon went in to Leena’s office, realizing that he had been incrediblycircumspect about intruding on her private space for a long time. She neverlocked the door of her office, but Lon had never even opened her office doorwhen she was not there. Opening the door, he saw the clothes she had worn thenight before carelessly thrown about. She must have disrobed very quickly.Over a chair back lay her black satin cocktail dress.

On the chair seat for her computer was a sleek, black front-cinch corset.A frilly black nippleless bra lay on the floor. A pair of frilly black, crotchlesspanties lay beside it. Next to these were a frilly black garter belt and expensiveblack seamed hose. On the floor were her high heels-- burnished black leather.The long thin heels must have been 4” high. Lon picked up her pantiesalmost without thinking. Wanting to feel close to her he put them to his noseand smelled. There was musk there, a smell of her. He didn’t know ifshe had been fucked by this man the night before. The smell caught in his throatand he was disgusted when he actually became sexually aroused. He strainedto reject this state of mind. It had to be just an aberration caused by hisemotional state.

Lon went into Leena’s computer and returned to the, “Slavery,” file.There he opened one of the earlier messages from the man:

cunt,

you are right that I think of you as a “bitch feminist,” andright also that I will be

harsher with you precisely because of that. In your question, I sensethe answer

that you want Me to give. I am not into Dominanceand Submission as play, like

many. I am a woman-trainer and I take this very seriously. I am ultra-sexistand

I am unapologetic about it. I use harsh language and I can have a harshhand.

But I don’t think you would have answeredMy ad, if I wasn’t what you are looking for. Make no mistake about itI train with the goal of abject servitude. Naturally, I have the experienceto pace things as necessary for each cunt. There’ll be no sudden suprises.That’s for the neophyte Masters.

Of course, I am very highly educated and have readnearly every important

work of feminist theory. But, now, that is My weaponagainst you, because

I believe the only true woman is one who is rightless.

Yes. you are quite right that you won’t beshowing up before Me in your bitch

dress-down outfits and insulting flat shoes orsneakers. you’ll come before Me dressed precisely as I dictate, evenif you find it ridiculous, uncomfortable or even painful. I do of course understandthat the very high heels a woman must wear before Me can be rather painfuland that is partly the point. When she is before Me her body is not hers butMine. I do see high heels as a form of bondage which I inflict for My pleasure.

your musing about the “essence of a woman” Ido find interesting. Sweet, gentle, pretty, and pleasing are some of the adjectivesI do think that describe it. I would also add a natural tendency toward submission.I train toward sweet, lisping, obedient, very pleasing attitude and behavior.Philosophically, I feel that most modern bitches have forgotten how to be realwomen. As Master, I take it to be My task to remind them and not so gentlyeither.

I Myself have never given a shit whether a womanwas married or not. Over the last 10 years I have given training to six cunts,one of whom now lives with Me and two of whom I still see from time to time.Of the six, two were married and remained so. Personally, I think I could useanother bitch in the house to amuse Me, but I’m not about to accommodateemotional baggage. I’ll decide as We/we progress what I shall do withyou.

you will meet Me at Largo’s restaurant at7 p.m. on Saturday. you’ll be wearing the black underthings I directedyou to buy and your new black high heels. your jewelry and make-up will beas directed earlier. For this first meeting you will speak only when spokento and then in the most pleasing way or I will lose interest in you quickly..

In Strict Mastery,

Alton Drave

What a revolting, disgusting pig! This man seemedto be the very personification

of the type of man that traditional feminists angrily inveighed against..Lon tried to think of anything in Leena’s background or views that mighthave tipped him off about her attraction to such a person and this type ofsexuality. Leena had not even joked like some do about S&M and B&D.These things were only disgusting to her, or so she always said. Though Leenawas a little young to adopt the strict, nearly fundamentalist attitudes ofearly feminists, she had been schooled in them by her university mentor andhad ended up in a Women’s Studies Department with many “old-line” types,either older or like her. Leena’s apparent abrupt change of viewpoint,at least in regard to this sexual affair, was a mystery that perhaps couldonly be answered by her carefully complied computer journal.

Lon himself had been passively accepting of Leena’s strident, overtfeminism from the beginning. She sometimes verged on pure man-hating it seemed,but her arguments were very clear and intellectually compelling. Lon, beinga gentle soul generally, came to agree nearly completely with her about thesethings and was actually personally offended by the obscene, extremely sexistlanguage that both his wife and Alton Drave used in these letters. However,underneath his disgust he already had experienced an unexpected reaction. ReadingAlton Drave’s letter to his dear wife had made his cock very hard. Theidea that a man like that could just control and dictate to a woman was partof it. But the idea of his wife being made into a complete whore by anotherman—that was the crux of it. He feared gravely for his marriage, buthis prick was hard the entire afternoon.

Leena got in again very late. Once again Lon made the pretence of beingasleep.

He realized that this pattern of her being gone and out of touch with himhad been rather persistent for a while. As Leena lay down beside him to goto sleep, Lon wondered whether she had gone to Alton Drave again. He did smellthe thick perfume stink on her body. Had she sucked his prick that night andlet him fuck her like a whore?

The next day Leena was scheduled to go off to the university for the dayand Lon was scheduled to stay home and work in his office.

“How you feeling, honey?” Leena said as though things werenormal.

“Fine. Fine. I just was so tired.”

“Remember our party tonight?”

“Again? Oh yes. It’s at that big house in the hills. Friendsof Lillian’s?” Lillian was an old friend going back to childhoodwho had ended up living very near.

“I think I’ll dress up,” Leena said almost without thinking.

“Yes, Leena. What’s with the dressing up lately?” Lonasked trying to sound casual.

“I don’t know,” she said, thinking of a good lie, “Itjust makes me feel good.”

“Christ you’ve raved so long about women becoming ‘slavesto fashion!’” Lon said, being even bolder.

“Well, maybe sometimes a little slave can’t help herself!” Leenasaid in

the most unusual tone that seemed to add a new twist to her usual sarcasm.

The statement itself was just so, “not Leena” and the sarcasmalmost felt like it was directed at him .

Lon tried to control his reactions. He really didn’t know what tosay. After all, it was she who was the feminist firebrand, not he. Leena didn’tseem to expect a response.

After Leena left for the college, Lon once again entered the office thathad once been so off-limits to him. The clothes she had worn out the day beforeto the conference, her sensible wool skirt, white blouse and white bra werelying on the floor along with her usual woven flats. Leena in her own precinctswas somewhat slovenly. Among the other clothes was a pair of the unfamiliarred, frilly panties he had noticed in her dresser the day before. Lon deliberatelypicked them up to examine them. In their crotch was a white mass of semen stain;there was little doubt. He smelled to make sure and caught the stink of themixed sexual fluids of his wife and the man who had somehow gotten hold ofher. He felt the dizzy hold of fear and frightening sexual arousal take overhim. He was almost in a trance when he opened his wife’s “journal” thatwould give him a clue, perhaps, to what was driving her to throw aside so muchthat made her what she was.

Leena’s journal notes contained her thoughts about all that hadtranspired with her in the last six months. She had chatted on-line with anumber of “Masters” until she had met Alton Drave in a chat room.Her notes also gave a record of hidden desires that Lon had never even hearda hint of:

Lillian is the only one who knows. Over the years, I’ve shared mysecrets with

only her. I know what I’ve done academically is basically a goodthing. Women

should have pride and they should fight againstsexism in all its forms. I will always believe that. It is no one else’sfault that I have lived with a deep hypocrisy at my core for so long. It isnot to my credit, I know, but I was paid

over these last 18 years to be a feminist ,and then a feminist of a certain type. I might have had the courage to fightthe orthodoxy over these years, but I wasn’t as strong as I pretended.In any case, I am ready to do what is right for me now.

Psychologically, I am very strong. Anyone’spsyche though has more than one facet. I am , in fact, a strong, independent,forthright woman. But I also have a deeply submissive and deeply masochisticaspect of myself that I’ve worked hard to ignore or suppress over theyears.

Only Lillian knows about Bobby who lived acrossthe street when I was 15. He was a farm boy, 16 years old, who had moved toour small town in Iowa. He was attractive enough. But I’ve never beenoverly concerned with a man’s looks. I always have looked at a man’seyes. Bobby was more muscular than the town boys, and at the time I liked that,but he had that dismissive look that was like a magnet to me. I wasa relatively pretty girl so this was particularly galling. It was incrediblewhat I was ready to give up just to feel his deep animality . I mademyself obvious to him for over a year and he just looked the other way! Then,one summer evening, he invited me into his house, when his parents were gone,and grabbed me and started kissing me in the roughest way. He called me a teaseand a little bitch and gave me a hicky to show me what it was like to playwith fire. I was in just this involuntary ecstasy and I surrendered to himtotally. I fell totally in love with him right there. Even when he shovedme out the door, afterwards, and told me to stay out of his sight, I didn’tcare. I was so hot ! I cherished that hicky, that sign of hispower over me. And I knew that he would be back for more.

It took a month before I was able to get his attentionagain. He got me in his garage—his parents were in the house—andhe felt me up so crudely ! He even pinched my titties until I had tearsin my eyes, but I craved his attention so and those rough, passionate, consumingkisses. I had my first orgasm that wasn’t self-induced in that nastyencounter in Bobby’s garage.

I know that Bobby was very, very intelligent.I found out many years later that they had discovered his learning disabilitiesthat led him to reject school and society and eventually become a hood. Butthe point is that Bobby wasn’t just crude, rough and stupid, like somany boys, who have no sensitivity or understanding. Those bitter eyes of hiscould read me. He understood me totally. Later, he forced meto suck his prick and swallow it, long before he pierced my hymen and rammedme for his pleasure. I was his little slave for that summer month, masturbatingsecretly and almost obsessively.

I nearly committed suicide, I nearly did, whenI saw him go up his driveway to the same garage a several weeks later withthe little ugly bitch down the street. Didn’t he understand that I belongedto him and him alone? Hadn’t I given him everything? That was the lastof Bobby and I. He tried to get me to go with him to a movie, but I distainedhim. I hated him.

I did what I did, as I grew up and tried to runaway from some of my deep feelings. I won’t say my academic life hasjust been to expiate the pain and bitterness I felt because of Bobby. Lifeis too complex and involved for a single

thing like this to make all the difference. I doknow that I turned my back on

a part of femaleness that I can no longer deny.It will be the next generation of feminist scholars, perhaps, who will havethe courage to get into it. I think many of us in my generation were afraidwe’d lose all our rights, if we were too honest. I know that I’mgoing to be honest now and I do hope that it does not cause too much pain toLon. I do love him, but this need is too strong for me now to deny myself further.It’s just too damn strong. It’s really not his fault that he can’tbe

the man I need now. I chose as my husband becauseI knew, instinctively, that

I would be safe with him from the power of my forbiddenpassions.

So here it was. Leena’s hidden part. So theirmarriage was just a lie? Was her

love for him also just a lie? Lon shut down the computer. He had taken herred panties and put them right beside the keyboard. He plunged his face intothe fuck-soiled crotch of them and felt the rush of his turn-on and the stiffnessof his traitorous prick. He had never in his life felt this kind of strangepassion. Had he even been aware before of his own perverse, hidden desires?

Leena got home somewhat late and it was clear she’d make them lateto their

7 o’clock party. Lon was resigned now to her transgressing every ruleof their married life. Leena was never late.

Leena got home and immediately went into the bathroom to shower. She tookforever. She only took this much time there when she was shaving her legs,something she did as a duty for very formal occasions. But this seemed evenlonger. Why the fuck did she have to shave her legs tonight? What was she doing?She emerged cheerfully and went into her office. Lon have wished he had a camerain there to watch her dress.

Leena came out of her office dressed in an outrageous,totally uncharacteristic outfit. She wore a black leather skirt, a black satinblouse, black seamed hose and red high heels. She had developed a somewhatmatronly figure over the years that clearly was influenced now by some sortof strict undergarment. She had beautiful brown eyes and a roundish face thatstill retained a measure of the true beauty he had seen in her when she was20. Her tits had never been large, but the cut of this new blouse defined themin a very pleasing way. He liked her short, manageable brunette bob, but hewondered whether that too might not change because it was not very dramatic.She answered his stunned, open-mouthed stare with another totally unprecedentedsarcastic comment, “Lonny, women have the right to change their minds.Don’t you know that yet?”

Lon couldn’t figure out what was taking Leenaso long in the bathroom again.

When she came out, he saw what had taken so long. Leena had, for perhaps thesecond time since he’d known her, made her face up fully. Her eyes wereskillfully done up with mascara, shadow and eyebrow pencil. She had put onfoundation and a hint of rouge on her cheeks. Her lips were heavily made-upwith lipslicker, a forbidden substance in their house! He was sure that thiswas not the “non-smearing” brand.

She had painted, too, her fingernails for the first time in 20 years. Shetrailed a “stink” of very expensive perfume behind her.

Leena didn’t respond to his stunned silence this time. She let herearlier comment, “Women have the right change their minds…” poundin his ears. Lon was terrified by what he saw. Was she going to flirt withevery bastard at the party? Was she going to look for someone else right infront of his nose? The stir of fear and perverse fantasy made his prick rockhard, but somehow he never thought of even approaching his

meticulously done up wife to kiss her. He was sure that she would tell himnot to mess up her make-up!

In the car Lon tried to find normalcy. He wanted to talk about everythingwithout getting in too deep.

“You look great, hon,” he said lamely.

Leena seemed to be in another world. “Hmm,” she said.

The smell of her perfume seemed like such an aphrodisiac. He so much wantedto reach out and rub her leg with its expensive nylon stocking. He wanted totouch her sensuous blouse. He wanted to kiss her painted lips. But she seemedcold and distant to him now. He sensed she’d make some excuse and pushhim away. The tension of her distance, her very concentration on being somethingthat Lon had never known, something that he would never possess, energizedhim sexually in a way he’d never experienced. His wife was a whore now;but she was another man’s whore. They drove the full half hour drivein silence. They had never been silent.

They pulled into the party that Lillian had arranged at about 8:30 P.M. There was a mix of people there, many much more well-dressed than at theusual parties only for faculty. It appeared that Leena was not grossly overdressedhere. Several women were very well-dressed and many of the men were in fineclothing.

Lon saw Lillian coming across room.

“Hi, Lily,” he said with a self-conscious sideward glanceat Leena.

Lillian looked as though she expected this, “Leena in drag.”

“How’s it been going, Leena,” she asked, not commentingat all on the fact that her best friend of a life time was attired in a waythat no one had ever seen before.

“I’m really feeling good,” Leenasaid and she looked over Lillian’s shoulder as though she had spottedsomeone.

She nodded to Lillian and turned her back on Lon,striding across the floor rather gracefully in her difficult high heels.

Lon searched Lillian’s face for an answer.

“Lily, what is up with Leena? She’sreally getting into a space I can’t understand.”

Lillian, who had been friends with Lon now formore than 25 years, touched

Lon on his shoulder and tried to soothe him. The way she went about this madehim

sure that she knew completely what was going on.

“Look, Lon. Leena is facing the empty nest. She’s adjustingto a new life without the kids. You don’t know Leena like I do. She hasso much inside her that she never expresses. It’s not a crime for a womanto be sexy is it? Really? I mean her department has put her in a strait jacketfor years.”

This was all a carefully contrived smokescreen, Lon could see. Lillianknew damn well what was going on and was trying to make pleasant conversation.

Leena had disappeared by now into the rather dense crowd of people atthe party.

Just as he was searching for something to say to Lillian, Leena came out ofthe crowd with a stranger in tow. He was a man who looked to be a few yearsyounger than she.

He was dressed in a very fine, pin-striped suit with a vest and a tie andhighly buffed black shoes. He was bald with high forehead, handsome, he wouldsay, with sensuous lips. But his grey eyes had a power to them that Lon knewto avoid. He didn’t look him in the eye when they shook hands.

“Lon, I want you to meet Alton Drave.”

The words struck Lon’s ears like a thunderclap. Would Leena rubit in like this? Or was this… He realized that this meeting had beenorganized by Alton Drave himself to make whatever point he wanted to make.

“Pleasure to meet you Mr. Durtz,” Mr. Drave said pleasantly.

Leena began gushing, “Alton is a photographer. You know, sort ofin the Mapplethorpe style. I met him at the conference on Sunday.”

Lon knew this was a bald-faced lie.

“Mr. Drave knows more about feminist theory than any man I’veever met,” Leena said with the hint of the same surreal sarcastic tonethat Lon had heard that afternoon.

Leena leaned into Mr. Drave’s arm and pushed her tits against himin a move that might have looked like a completely unconscious act to anyone,but Lon knew better. Lon was reeling and trying to find his way.

As if it were choreographed, suddenly another woman, preceded by prodigioustits that most surely were the result of implants, dressed in a very shortskirt and stockings, wearing heels even higher than Leena’s, came forwardto lean against Mr. Drave’s other arm.

“This must be Mr. Drave’s live-in ‘cunt,’” Lonthought.

The woman stood there, not looking anywhere, her eyes averted.

“Say hello to Lon,” Mr. Drave said.

“Hello, Sir,” the woman said stupidly. She was about 5’10” inthese towering heels and had beautiful blonde hair. She had blue eyes and beautifullips that were

painted identically to Leena’s. She was younger and more attractivethan Leena and Lon noticed the tension in Leena when the new woman approached.

“Won’t you tell him your name?” Mr. Drave said witha bit of annoyance.

“Trina,” she said quietly and lapsed into silence.

“So, Mr. Durtz, your wife is an amazing scholar,” Mr. Dravebegan. Lon felt that this was all a subtle way of rubbing all of this in hisface. “She really understands the essence of patriarchy, I think,” hecontinued.

Lillian looked away toward the crowd trying not to get engaged. Lon understoodnow that Mr. Drave liked to rub it in and here was rubbing Leena’s facein it, too.

“What do you do for a living,” Mr. Drave asked.

“Oh, I run an accounting firm, Durtz and Lawton.”

“I admire a man who knows the numbers,” Mr. Drave said. Itseemed like this was not some subtly denigratory comment. “I’mmore of an eye man myself,” he said.

“I try to see through things.”

Lon was not one to make casual conversation and Mr. Drave seemed happywith stopping there. Having made his point Mr. Drave took his Barbie doll,Trina, by the arm and said goodbye. Leena was a bit too interested in watchingthem recede into the crowd.

As though she didn’t trust Mr. Drave alone with Trina, Leena saidto Lon,

“Just go circulate, Lon. There are people I want to talk to.” Lonmourned for the Leena as he knew her. He had never her seen her so mendacious.

Lon had gotten involved in conversation for more than two hours with abald man who happened also to be an accountant. He hadn’t seen anythingof Leena, but then he hadn’t been looking. He left that man and wentto get something to eat at the long table of food. Leena came up to him fromthe side with eyes that seemed on the verge of tears. Her lipstick was smearedterribly and she looked awful. It was a horror for him to be able to identifythe small white globs of sperm on her smeared mouth. Mr. Drave must have founda way to take advantage of her in one of the bedrooms, not a minute before.

“Christ, honey, what happened to your face?” he said.

“Maybe I was sucking cock,” she said in what sounded likea drunken slur. Leena didn’t get drunk very often, but when she did shedid like to curse. Lon decided to pretend that she was just talking out ofher head, “Do you want to go home?”

Leena looked at him rather sadly and he could seethat she was really emotionally torn.

“I’m going over to Alton’s housenow,” she said without elaboration.

“Honey…” Lon could see thatthere was nothing to say. Leena kissed him on the

cheek like she always did and went across the room. Lon didn’t know,really, if he’d ever see Leena again.