Women, Wine and Heels

by Gray Fisher

  Ms. Sheldon introduced Eddie to each woman in turn, and it was all he could do to remain rigid and cool as he met four people he’d admired as a home viewer.

  “So, you’re our new victim,” Melissa Katsaros said playfully, a big grin on her face.

  “Yes, I guess that’s me,” Eddie replied, trying to keep his eyes on her face rather than her legs. In fact, his heart raced and his groin tingled knowing the visual feast that awaited him whenever he could steal a glance downward. In just a few moments, he reminded himself, they’d be seated, so those furtive looks would be more inconspicuous.

  As if on cue, Ms. Sheldon said, “Why don’t we all sit down on the studio couch and begin the discussion? Mr. Carroll, you’ll be in the middle. Ignore the camera…it’s just a political conversation among friends.”

  No sooner were they seated than each of his co-hosts got comfortable by crossing one leg over the other. Oddly, Eddie noticed, they seemed to synchronize the motion, first Melissa, then Davina, then Cassidy, and finally, Dierdre. Melissa and Davina, to his left, crossed right leg over left, and the other two, on his right, crossed left leg over right. From the camera’s standpoint, it was incredibly symmetrical. Surely, this wasn’t something they rehearsed, he thought.

  Davina Harris made the introductions to the imaginary audience, then concluded by saying, “and today’s overwhelmed guy is George Washington University political science professor and sometimes guest here on NCN, Eddie Carroll. Welcome, Eddie.”

  “Thanks, Davina, it’s great to be here among four such lovely women.” That came out well, Eddie thought. Smooth.

  That was met with a chorus of “Aww” and “He’s so sweet,” from the hosts.

  “We’ll jump right in with today’s headlines,” Davina continued, before reading some text off the teleprompter. As she ran through the news highlights, with the camera’s red light temporarily off, Eddie caught a movement from his left, and he instinctively looked. Melissa had popped the heel of her right shoe off and was dangling her pump. He watched obliquely as the shoe thwapped against her creamy heel again and again. All four women reviewed notes in their laps – talking points, he imagined – so he let his eyes linger, curious of the color toenail polish she wore. None the wiser, Melissa continued her shoe’s back-and-forth motion.

  To his right, at a perfect 45 degree angle from where he sat, Dierdre uncrossed her leg and stretched out her left foot, with the sole of her heel remaining flat on the carpet. This gave the effect of accentuating her nylon-sheathed calf muscle, and from where he sat Eddie saw it was a lovely calf indeed. No doubt she frequently flexed her legs during the actual show; she and Melissa had the “base” positions, closest to the No. 1 camera, and accordingly knew they were the most responsible for attracting leg-loving male viewers.

  Cassidy was talking now, about some controversial bill before congress, and while Eddie tried to look at her lovely face his peripheral vision caught Melissa re-crossing her legs with a sweeping arch. For the viewer at home, it was simply a leg cross. For Eddie, though, the motion was less than modest as her already short skirt rode up further. With just a slight turn of his head he could see shadow between her thighs, but could discern nothing else.

  “Does this bill really have any legs, Eddie?” Cassidy said, pulling his attention back.

  “Um…well…it’s going to be a tough sell in the Republican senate, Cassidy. More conservative members will be afraid of alienating their constituencies.” Whew, good way to cover myself, he thought. He was managing to stay engaged in the conversation despite the leggy display around him.

  At this point, Melissa stopped her dangle, used her right hand to slip the heel back on her foot, then slowly slid her hand up the side of her leg, as though unconsciously rubbing a sore spot. Eddie’s eyes followed the journey, then widened as she slid it back down. For a few seconds, she slowly rubbed her right leg, ankle to just above the knee, then down again. His eyes lingered, and his penis began to stir. Just as he was thinking the last thing he needed was a hard-on on television, Melissa’s doe-like eyes turned sharply toward him, and she smirked.

  “Is it that hard?” she said. “I mean, the conservatives have risen to the occasion before, most recently in 2015 when…”

  Did she catch me? Eddie wondered, and the thought caused a tingling in his groin area. Her words sounded to him like those of the teacher in the Peanuts cartoons, “wha wha wha.” Turning his head away quickly in embarrassment, he now saw Dierdre slipping her left shoe completely off, as if the camera wasn’t there at all. Well-shaped toes, adorned in shell-pink polish, and sloping delightfully from big toe to pinky toe, greeted him. His cock now jerked up suddenly in his khakis, and he was sure his cheeks became red.

  “So what you’re saying, Eddie, is the opposition is going to be stiff, very stiff, is that right?” It was Melissa’s voice. He looked up at her face, and found her playful eyes drilling into him. Becoming flustered, he could only ramble.

  “Yes, I, um, yeah, it will be stiff. I think…”

  “Please Eddie, continue. How stiff will it be?” Melissa said, but it was almost impossible to do so as now Cassidy to his immediate right began the shoe dangle, with her bright red toenail peeking through the small opening.

  “You think what, Eddie?” Cassidy asked, a smug smile crossing her lips. Then, he noticed her eyes distinctly look downward toward his lap, before darting back to his face. Her tongue ran across her upper lip.

  “I think…um…” A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, glistening in the studio lights. At the same time, a small bead of moisture formed on the crotch of his suit trousers, that too unmistakable in the bright kliegs.

  “Eddie, are you OK?” Bonnie Sheldon asked. “Maybe we should take a break from the rehearsal.”

  “Uh, yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” he replied. Cassidy and Melissa chuckled at this.

  “In fact,” Bonnie continued, “maybe you should lay down…the carpet here is quite comfortable. Take a few moments to…uh…compose yourself.”

  Eddie took her up on the offer and stretched out on the floor, wedging himself between the clear Plexiglas coffee table and the middle of the couch, with his legs bent akimbo because of the curve of the furniture.

  “Is that better, Eddie? Hmmm?” This was Dierdre, whose taupe-colored calves and beige four-inch pumps were now inches from his head. “Since we’re taking a breather, I’ll give my toes one too.” With a great flourish, her forefinger swooped down and undid the heel of her right shoe, then her left. They thudded to the floor, and the air around Eddie’s head was suddenly redolent in a mixture of sweat, nylon and earthy leather. His reaction was nearly instantaneous.

  “Oh my god, Bonnie, I can’t work with someone like this. Look!” Bonnie Sheldon’s and all the other females’ eyes turned downward. “The professor’s got a tent!”

  “Seriously?” Davina sneered, ever the professional newswoman. “Where’d you unearth this guy? I would’ve hoped that our new broadcast partner would have a little more…self control and fortitude.”

  Cassidy jumped into the fray. “Oh, go easy, Davina. I’ll just stomp it back down and we’ll continue.” As she said it, her black open-toe pump pressed forcefully on Eddie’s bulge, causing him to emit a soft groan. Seeing how futile it seemed to be, she placed her left foot on the spot and ground both of her souls into the front of his pants.

  “Be careful, Melissa, with someone like this, you might cause a mess.”

  “Then I cause a mess. At least we can get back to prepping for the show. Anyway, wardrobe always keeps spare suits on hand.”

  “Good point,” said Dierdre. “The sooner we can take care of this, the sooner we can get out of here. My husband wants to take me out for a special dinner tonight to celebrate his big new client.”

  Noting how Eddie had responded when she took her shoes off, Dierdre deliberately placed both feet over his face, knocking off his glasses in the process. At first, Eddie bucked, but Cassidy’s pressu
re kept his writhing to a minimum.

  “Shhh…shhh…it’s okay, Eddie. Just relax,” Dierdre cooed. “You’ll be back in front of the camera in no time.”

  Eddie let his body go limp, and breathed in the aroma of Dierdre’s stocking feet. His penis swelled more against Cassidy’s relentless pumps. He moaned.

  “Davina, unzip him,” Bonnie Sheldon instructed. “We might as well get this done with.”

  Davina crouched down with her knees brushing Eddie’s shoulder and with some effort slid back the zipper of his pants. With a bit of maneuvering of her slender fingers, his pink cock sprang out like a canned snake after the lid was removed. Eddie sucked in a breath as his skin caught on the zipper.

  “Oh, sorry, Eddie,” Davina cooed, “let me make it better.” She grasped his penis and, as the assembled women stared down at him with a mixture of fascination and mild reprehension, began stroking it slowly. “Up we go,” she said in a sing-song tone. “Doooown we goooo.” Like a cadence, she repeated it in time with the movement of her slender fingers.

  Eddie raised his lower body off the carpet to meet her grip more forcefully, and in doing so his face pressed more deeply into the wrinkles of Dierdre’s soles. Feeling this, the newswoman applied more downward pressure.

  “Up we goooo, doooown we goooo.”

  Feeling a bit left out, Melissa at this point began teasing his nipples with her fingernails, and the guest host bucked at her touch.

  “It’s okay, Eddie, just relax,” Davina said softly.

  As Dierdre continued to mash her hosed arches into his face, and as Bonnie Sheldon now captured it all on her smart phone, Eddie writhed once more. It was only Davina’s fifth stroke, but it was firm, and it was calculated to end this distraction once and for all. They were professionals, after all, and they were going in front of the camera for real in just over an hour.

  Cassidy cried out: “Look at him, girls, he’s about apoplectic!”

  That generated a boisterous laugh from all five women. And it was at that moment that Eddie groaned loudly and sent a stream of sperm arching into the air, barely missing his tormentress’ feet at his face. Several more shots ensued, soaking Davina’s hand, but somehow sparing his suit pants.

  Dierdre removed her feet and slipped them back into her pumps. As he opened his eyes, he saw Bonnie Sheldon’s impetuous face staring down at him.

  “I’m sorry, Eddie,” she said. “I’m afraid you just don’t have the discipline we need in a guest host. Now leave. We have a show to do.”

  The Car Wash Cuckold

  “Hi Blanca! Hey, I’m washing my car today…I’d be happy to do yours too!”

  I finally said it, over the white picket fence that separated my driveway from my next door neighbor’s. Blanca was one of two daughters in their early 20s next door. Her older sister had moved out, but I frequently saw the dark-haired, olive-skinned beauty coming and going. I’d gotten into the habit of noticing when her car, a Cadillac XT5 was parked in the driveway. I wasn’t quite stalking her or doing anything creepy…just hyper-aware of when I might catch a glimpse of her coming home or heading out with a friend or boyfriend.

  Blanca’s friends were epic, and they all liked to dress to the nines went they went out. Once, soon after I moved in next door, her home hosted the senior prom pre-game, and I watched, entranced, from an upstairs window as they all gathered and posed for pictures in their pastel gowns and heels, alongside their tuxedo-clad dates. Another time, I spied Blanca getting it on with her then-boyfriend in their above ground pool…while her mother was in the house!

  These days, Blanca worked as a dental assistant, though I’m not sure if that Cadillac SUV was a result of her income or her father’s job at a car dealership. All I knew was it was a far better ride than my Toyota, and I relished the fact my car wasn’t nearly as nice as hers. After all, why shouldn’t this young, shapely goddess have better things than me? Shouldn’t that be the natural order of things?

  “Oh, hi Gray. That’s nice, but you don’t have to go to the trouble for me,” she replied, a somewhat forced smile on her face as though to be sufficiently appreciative while trying to end the conversation.

  “It’s no trouble…like I said, I’m doing mine, and your car’s right here.” I waved my hand illustrating the proximity of our vehicles.

  The truth is, I’d washed my car a week ago and wasn’t planning to do it again, but this was an opportunity I’d been waiting for. My desire to do nice things for Blanca, even pedestrian things like cleaning her car, had become a near obsession. It would be a way to stay on her radar while secretly fulfilling my fantasy of being subservient to a lovely woman.

  “Uh…sure…thank you,” she finally replied.

  “Great!” I said, with a bit more enthusiasm than I’d intended. “Just make sure all your windows are closed tight.”

  “Will do,” she said. “Thanks again!” With that, she pranced toward the front door, and I enjoyed the view of her toned rear end in tight, multi-colored jogging pants…her clothing of choice when she wasn’t wearing scrubs for work. If I didn’t see her again today, I’d carry that mental image, and of course the feeling I’d done something nice for her.

  I got to work, cleaning my car first so as not to appear too anxious should someone be watching out a window. Once I completed that, I set about doing hers.

  Normally, I’m not peering into car windows, but on this occasion I could look without reservation, since I’d be scrubbing all the windows. You can tell a lot about a person by the inside of their car. Hers was mostly neat. There was some detritus from some recent adventure or trip to the shore…parking receipts, a bottle of sunscreen, a nearly empty soda bottle. Then I spied both a pair of flip flops and a pair of black sequined pumps strewn across the backseat floor. These got my heart racing; I’m a foot guy, and Blanca’s were beautiful and usually well manicured. A few minutes inside the car would be delightful, I thought.

  Then, as I sponged the rear passenger window, I spied it: a pair of cotton panties, turned inside out, grains of sand sprinkled on them, clearly forgotten. The crotch was discolored…ripe. Having sat for who knows how long in a closed car in summer heat, I imagined they smelled very nice. My cock stirred. As I soaped up the Cadillac emblem on the rear hatch, I heard Blanca’s voice from the front porch.

  “Would it be too much to ask to Armor All the tires too? I have the spray in the garage.” I looked up, and her hair was freshly wet. She must’ve just come from the shower and wore a short but thick terry robe.

  “Sure!” I said, without thinking about it. Wow, she was getting particular for someone who had to be coaxed into this service in the first place. But no worries…the more I could do for this Mediterranean beauty, the more aroused I became.

  “We’re taking it out in a little while, meeting some of my co-workers, and I want it to gleam.”

  We, I thought? Then gulped. “No problem. Uh…would you like me to clean the interior too?”

  She scrunched her nose as she considered it. Please say yes, I begged telepathically.

  “No, um, that’s OK. Wouldn’t wish that mess on anybody, ha ha!”

  My heart sank, as my penis stirred. What did she know about me, I wondered. If she had any inkling of my true nature, she’d know that her intimate items would be intoxicating to me. But do women even think in those terms? They must, I determined, especially ones who know they turn heads wherever they go, and especially in their own driveways with the guy next door.

  So either she knew my soul – despite my best efforts at discretion – and didn’t want my grubby paws so much as vacuuming around her garments, or she was consciously withholding what she must’ve known I crave, as some unspoken tease. Or maybe a combination of both.

  With a barely perceptible chuckle, Blanca ducked back inside, no doubt to her bedroom, or boudoir, or wherever she got herself together for a fun time out. If I could slow my efforts, I mused, I might be rewarded with a good look at her in her party clothes, a rare
treat indeed. The Armor All would help in that regard. Hell, at this point I planned to Windex her windows and scrub her hubcaps.

  I was about to spray the second tire when a car pulled up in front, a late-model Audi. Sharp looking but not top-of-the-line. I paused to watch as the door opened. A 20-something guy in jeans, white button front shirt and all-black Nikes got out. His face was tan, and he looked like he was no stranger to the gym. We’d seen each other once or twice before. He threw me a pleasant smile and head nod, seemingly unfazed or unconcerned that the neighbor guy was polishing his girlfriend’s tires. I nodded back and muttered hello.