by C. C. Morian
She opened one eye to see him staring at her. “What?”
“You do look beautiful when you come.”
She smiled. Somehow, it made her feel even better hearing it from Mason than it did from Jack. With Jack, it was just the sex. With Mason, there was much more.
“He said you liked doing it outside. We’ve never done it outside.”
“I didn’t think you’d enjoy that,” she said, truthfully.
“Maybe we should try it.”
“I think you’d be too self conscious.”
“You’re probably right.” Mason paused. “Maybe you should do it with Jack.”
“What?!”
“He obviously wasn’t worried about doing it in public. You could do it with him.”
Janet turned fully toward him. “You mean have a skype with him in some public place?”
“Janet, you just watched him masturbate, and got off on it. He wants you. And I saw—I felt—your reaction. You still get turned on by him.”
“I was turned on by you too.”
“Too,” said Mason. “Both of us. I get it. But you’ve never been like that with me—you were just wild, the way you talked to him, the things you said and did. I think you want it. Him.”
“I want you.”
“Why not have both? As long as I know what’s going on, as long as you tell me, you can do it. I’d love to listen in.”
“I don’t want to make a habit of that. I admit this was fun. But Jack might get the wrong idea.”
“Like I said before about Brad, he might get the right idea.”
“Don’t push it. Especially with Jack. He’s—demanding.”
Mason ran his fingers around her nipple, a gentle caress, a conversation at another level. “What about Brad?”
“Brad? He’s not the type to have phone sex.”
“How about for real?”
Janet gasped. She had known this might come up, but hearing the words was still a shock. “I’m not sure if I can do that.”
Mason grinned. “You’re not sure you can have sex with Brad?”
“Not—don’t joke. I’m afraid of what it would do to us—to me and you.”
Mason kissed her gently. “Tell me, how do you feel about me right now?”
She kissed him back. “I love you.”
“And how do you feel about us?”
“I’ve never felt closer to you,” she said, truthfully.
“See? This is something we are doing together.”
“I don’t know.”
“Think about it,” said Mason, and pressed his mouth over her nipple.
And, so help, her, she did just that.
Once again I had the pleasure of watching Janet get dressed. Only this time she wasn’t on her way to work.
I sat in the easy chair, the same one I had sat in when Janet had first called Jack. I struggled to control my breathing.
Janet had taken extra long in the shower. And even longer applying her makeup, getting it just right, her face crunched up in concentration. I’d wondered about her makeup the morning she was planning on meeting Jack. Did a woman apply makeup differently if she might be having sex?
What was going through her mind? Beyond wanting to look good, was she thinking about what might happen? What she wanted to happen?
Janet stood up, stepping back from the mirror, her lips pursed. She picked up an eyeliner and made a final adjustment.
As she came into the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, she said, “What are you looking at?”
“You.”
“I never knew you were so interested in me getting ready.”
“It’s what you’re getting ready for.” I was seeing her in a new light. “What are you going to wear?”
“I’m still deciding. Except for my underwear, I’ve got that picked out.”
My gut twisted. She’d already thought about what underwear to put on. “Let me see.”
Instead of going to the dresser, Janet picked up a shopping bag and displayed it for me.
“You bought something new?”
“I—I didn’t want to wear something to see him that I had worn with you.”
“You mean, in case you. . .”
“Nothing is going to happen. I’ll see him, but that’s it.”
“If you’ve decided that beforehand, then all the excitement is gone. Well, most of it. You can do—whatever you want.”
“Look, I’m not going to—”
I shook my head. “Don’t say it. You decide where to draw the line. Or not. But don’t tell me. Not now, anyway.”
Janet looked like she was going to say something else, but instead she reached into the bag. The first thing she pulled out was a skimpy black bra. She repositioned the towel and slipped it on, cupping her breasts to get the fit right, checking herself out in the mirror. Apparently satisfied, she turned to me, dropping the towel. “What do you think?”
The bra lifted her pert breasts up until they were standing straight out, pushing them closer together, giving her more cleavage than normal. It was cut low, the top of her areoles visible.
There’s something about a woman wearing only a bra, an odd incongruity of primness, her breasts covered but her pussy fully visible.
Her pussy. She’d shaved it. Not totally, but leaving only a narrow landing strip. She’d never done that in all the time I’d known her.
“It’s incredible. You’re beyond gorgeous. And I see you have something else new besides a bra.”
“I was—just trying to get in the mood. Feel sexy, in a different way.”
“Is it working?”
Janet smiled. “Let’s just say I found it hard to concentrate in the shower.”
My cock firmed. “Now that’s something to think about. Did you. . .”
“Touch myself? No. I’m trying to stay in the mood.”
“And what mood is that?”
“Just—sexy. Expectant.”
“I see.”
Janet dug into the shopping bag. The next item she picked out looked like panties, a matching black to her bra. But when she stepped into them the thin material sat high, on her hips. Four straps dangled from the bottom.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a garter belt, silly.”
“Oh, of course.” I’d never seen one, for real. Certainly not on Janet.
“It’ll look better once I have the stockings on.”
“You’re going to wear stockings?”
“I told you, I want to feel sexy. I’m going to be a little nervous—maybe very nervous—and if I think of this as dress up, it will be like acting, playing a role. I can pretend I’m someone else.”
“I see.” I wasn’t sure I did. She wanted to be extra sexy, to pretend that she wasn’t herself?
Janet took a package of black stockings out of the bag and ripped it open. She bent over to put the first one on, stopped, smiled slyly, and came to stand by me. Lifting one foot onto the edge of the chair, she slowly slid the stocking onto her elegant leg.
I watched her hand slide along the slick material from her toes to her thighs. My eyes followed her graceful hands as she repeated it for the other leg. It was like she was stroking a massive cock, pulling the skin tight.
“Want to clip them up?” she asked.
I nodded dumbly, reaching for the clips, my hands clumsy.
When my fingers touched her legs it was like I was touching another woman. Somehow the stockings and garters made Janet into—someone new. Exotic. Enticing.
I fumbled at the clips.
“Here,” said Janet, her fingers over mine. “Flip them around so the softer side is against my skin.”
I finished the clasps on the front, her shaved pussy wickedly close, another indication of the new Janet. Screaming at me that it had been shaved for another man.
Janet turned so I could do the clips at the back.
The stockings made her tight ass even more prominent, outlining the bottom of her butt cheeks
. Her labia, fully visible through her thigh gap, was even more pronounced without any hair.
I wanted to kiss her ass, bury my head between her legs, then bend her over and fuck her right there. The fantasy had been fun, but who needed it when I had this?
I half stood, ready, but Janet had stepped away, her ass calling to me as she walked across the bedroom and into the closet.
She returned wearing another pair of shoes I’d never seen, black heeled pumps with a thin strap around the ankle. I stood there dumbfounded, my cock straining against my pants.
Janet walked to the middle of the room and posed for me, her legs slightly spread. Except for when she’d taken the selfie for Jack, I’d never seen her in a pair of shoes with such high heels, but she appeared to be very comfortable.
I discovered something at that moment: there is nothing sexier than a woman in just stockings, a bra, and a pair of high heels. Sexier than a woman naked. Even Janet. Or perhaps my thoughts were biased because of what she was dressing this way for.
Who she was dressing this way for. Someone that wasn’t me.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“I bet you can guess.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“You look—you are—perfect. You are so sexy, so hot. You are all of those things without that lingerie, but they form a frame for a stunning painting. The frame sets it off. The way you are dressed is like that, setting you off.” I grinned. “It’ll probably set me off too.”
Janet smiled, strode to me, and kissed me on the cheek. “You are so sweet.”
“Is it hard walking in those?”
“It’s like riding a bike,” she said. “Once you’ve done it, it just comes back to you.” She could have been talking about having kinky sex.
Or maybe she was.
I grabbed her arm, pulling her down for a kiss, stopping at the last minute as I remembered about her makeup. Instead I guided her hand to my crotch. “This will give you a better indication of what I think that is better than anything I can say.”
Janet rubbed my erection. “I see. Yes, this is even harder than usual.” She looked into my eyes. “Maybe I don’t have to go out. If the outfit does it for you, we can have our own fun.”
I almost said yes, I wanted to say yes. But—she had said maybe. Maybe I don’t have to go out. Not, I don’t have to go out, I want to stay here with you.
And she had bought the outfit. Shaved her pussy.
She wanted to go.
“We can still do that after,” I said. Then waited, holding my breath, to see how she’d respond.
“Okay.” Janet gave me another kiss on the cheek.
My gut lurched again. Just okay. No hesitation. Now I was sure. She was doing this for me, yes, but for her as well.
Or was it just to see how I’d react when she got back?
Maybe I’d never know.
Janet headed back toward the closet.
“Wait!” I said.
She turned, a look of trepidation crossing her face for a split second. Was she worried I’d changed my mind? That I was going to stop her?
Any thoughts I had of doing that ended with her look. I couldn’t face her disappointment, or even the possibility of it.
“What panties are you going to wear?” I asked instead.
Janet brightened immediately. “Panties? I didn’t buy any. Just the garter.”
And she disappeared into the closet to get her dress, leaving me shaking with shock and anticipation.
The luxurious leather was slick against Janet’s bare thighs. She’d never been so excited in a car—not while she was driving, anyway. Her dress, short, but not ridiculously so, had ridden up her legs, her uncovered skin between the top of her stockings and her ass right against the leather seats, for some reason this little bit of nakedness somehow sinful.
Extra sinful, being in her husband’s car, driving it to meet another man.
Janet had to crack the window open to let in some air, she was hyperventilating.
As free and wild as some of her sexual history had been, never in a million years would she have imagined that she’d be doing something like this. And if Mason hadn’t been so turned on by the idea, she never would have. Her first husband had cheated on her, the entire thought of cheating sickened her. But this wasn’t cheating, it was just—another kind of sex.
She hadn’t been lying when she told Mason that she had never felt closer to him as she did now, as she did after their secret lovemaking during her video call with Jack. She wasn’t sneaking around behind Mason’s back, she was doing this with him. Not physically, of course. Well, she was sure there’d be plenty of physical connection later, when she got home.
Not that she would do anything with Brad. She’d already decided that. Kiss him perhaps. That’s all. Just enough so she could have something to tell Mason about.
When she had unexpectedly run into Brad at the party, she’d been surprised, that’s what had led to her lustful fantasy. But now she was prepared. No matter how good Brad looked, she wouldn’t lose track of why she was with him.
For Mason. For her and Mason.
A sliver of wind rushed through the car, magical fingers seeking her nakedness, pushing under her dress. Even nature knew her secret.
Janet remembered the first time she had dressed sexily, just to attract boys. It was back in high school. She giggled at the memory, her and her girlfriends, swapping clothes, helping each other with makeup, joking nervously about “going all the way.” One of her friends had swiped a few of her sister’s shoes, heels so tall Janet couldn’t even stand in them. Yet even as a teenager, Janet could feel the change that came over her as she tottered around in them, a sense of power, the first true understanding of how clothing could multiply her femininity, her allure.
Just wearing a different outfit could be so liberating, so transforming. Men probably didn’t understand this at all. A man could change from jeans to a tux and just feel dressed up. Yet a little black dress with strapless heels turned a woman into someone else, the clothing setting the mood, setting the stage. She could be a vixen, a seductress, a princess. A slut.
That’s why she had bought new underwear, or at least the bra. She hadn’t worn stockings and a garter since she had met Mason. Just putting them on, and not putting on the panties, had excited her more than she thought possible. She barely made it out of the house, she was so turned on by Mason watching her that she almost jumped him right then and there.
But he so wanted her to do this, to go and pretend to be with another man. She smiled as she imagined his reaction after she came home.
She couldn’t let her loving husband down, could she?
Janet had been to the bar at the Grande Hotel just once, and that was only while she and Mason were waiting for their table in the hotel restaurant.
She’d chosen this bar not only because of its cozy booths, but because the bar was part of a hotel. Mason’s eyes had widened when she had told him where she was meeting Brad. In some ways, the hotel was much less risky than going to Brad’s place, it was after all a public facility. Yet the very fact that there was a hotel upstairs, all those beds, the prospect of a tryst. . .that’s what was so wicked about it. Mason had understood immediately.
Nothing would happen, nothing needed to happen, just the game was enough. Enough to set their sex life on a new trajectory.
At the hotel Janet bypassed the lobby, knowing the bar had a second, discreet entrance off the side street. Her heels clicked on the sidewalk, her steps assured, her muscles already recapturing the skill of walking in these higher heels. Her dress swished around her legs, cool and elegant, and yet she knew she looked hot, catching the doormen at the hotel checking her out. She swore she could feel the newness of her bra, or maybe it was her nipples rubbing against the lace, threatening to poke through, a flashing sign to everyone that she was aroused.
She was appropriately late, not wanting to take the chance of having to wait, to
wonder if Brad would show up. She hadn’t spoken to Brad on the phone, she didn’t want to explain things to him, not that way. Just a text, asking him to meet her for a drink.
Inside, the bar felt different. It wasn’t really, it was the same décor, the same layout. But tonight the wood seemed darker, the lighting more romantic, the corner booths more intimate.
The bar was crowded, a dozen men and women. Every one of them looked at her as she came in. Every single one.
Janet had never felt so exposed, so on display. Not even when she had stood naked in front of a man. Yet at the same time she’d never felt so alive, so vibrant, so alluring.
A gust of wind from the closing door swirled her dress, moving it the barest amount, but enough to draw attention to her legs, to her thighs.
The men with wives and girlfriends had to force their eyes away. Others continued to stare lustily. Two of the women didn’t take their eyes off her, even as their husbands did. If he had been at the bar, Brad would have stood out right away, he would have appraised her, cool, but his eyes would have been on fire.
Janet smiled, this would be another story for Mason, women angry at their husband’s tonight because they had been caught ogling her. Maybe this was another idea for her and Mason, go out together, see who would check her out. For a moment Janet forgot why she was there, she was so focused on Mason, dreaming up other fun they could have together, more experiences to share.
Until a voice at her elbow jolted her, stunned her, captivated her, forced her back to the past. “I told you you’d be back.”
Janet looked up into Brad’s impossibly blue green eyes, an ocean of depth, the leading edge of a tidal wave threatening to engulf her. His features were as hard to read as always, not chiseled, but on perpetual guard, honed from a lifetime of people wanting things from him. Women for his body, men and women for his money.
Janet faltered, her legs shaking, and it had nothing to do with the heels.
She seen Brad barely three weeks ago. How could he look even better? Did he have that power, the ability to turn a switch and become even more irresistible?
So sure of herself seconds ago, all she could say was, “Brad.”