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Returned Favors |
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By Margo Perry
The couple stood on opposite sides of their bedroom, too conscious of the other’s presence. April’s dense wet heat stung their skin and slowed their breaths, but the resentment breathing out of their silent, frozen lips was frigid enough to burn flesh. The couple stayed on opposite sides of the room, unconscious of the other’s desperation. Outside, a car screeched to a messy halt. Life played on, even as they seemed stuck. Paused. And there was no air.
Billy walked to the window and stared out at the imposing fifty-two storied building opposite. Through their floor to ceiling windows, he watched people moving about in their condos. A middle aged, very well-endowed woman shrugged out of her jacket, stepped out of her skirt and walked out of his view, just before her shirt came off.
Damn!
The sound of roaring engines and honking horns droned through his open window. He tugged at a curtain, already pulled as far aside as possible. He glanced at his watch: 5:46 PM. The reception would be rocking by now.
Bet you wish you were back there with Carmen and her very low-cut dress.
Fuck off, Billy silently cursed himself.
He had enough problems and a headache had struck boldly, clouding his vision. How could he possible manage an evening that was stretching so stressfully and endlessly before him? He vigorously massaged his temples. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed and a dog yelped over and over again.
“What got into you, Bill?”
Bill turned toward Martine. She glared at him from across the room, hands on her hips, her stance unapologetically confrontational.
“What got into me?” Bill exploded back at her. “That bastard had his hands all over you. What did you expect me to do?”
“Check your eyes and then your stupid self! Not scream, ‘Take your hands off my woman!’ from across the room. The man barely grazed my arm as he was asking if I wanted a drink, something you hadn’t bothered to do since we arrived and you abandoned me for the young Carmen. I could have died of thirst, if it was left up to you.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Bill said, quickly, “but I had business with Carmen. I told you that. She’s my clerk, remember?”
Martine didn’t answer. Billy watched as she slipped a long string of pearls over her head and began to draw pins from her upswept hair. She gnawed on her lower lip, frowning, as though trying to untangle a web of hurt and confusion. Lustrous thick waves of raven hair fell past her shoulders and down her back as she removed combs and placed them on the dresser. Instead of turning to him for help, as she usually did, she then unzipped her dress herself, allowing the pricey red cocktail number to fall onto the floor. She stepped out of it and kicked it aside, the accustomed care she took of her clothes abandoned. His eyes glazed over as her bountiful breast flesh rose and fell, jutting out of her perfectly fitted bra in all their wondrous glory.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
And upset. Much more than Bill had realized. He eyed her carefully and crossed the room, testing the waters by looking for eye contact as he passed by her. He wanted her to reach out to him, throw herself into his arms and forget his lunatic outburst, but she didn’t. Instead, she bent down and picked up her dress, affording Bill the full impact of her pendulous swaying breasts. Her strong legs seemed even longer than they were in her low-rise bikini panties and high heeled sandals and Bill was suddenly totally horny and even more afraid. This woman really turned him on and, for all his bravado, he didn’t want to lose her. Not ever. That, he believed, would be the death of him.
“Roark is an intelligent and sweet man and I was enjoying his company. In fact, he’s just moved in across the way.” Martine gestured toward the building Bill had just been ogling. “We were talking about the oil spill, how grave and sad it all was and here you came, roaring and hurtling toward us like some mindless, out of control tornado! That man … everyone there must think we’re idiots. I was mortified, William.”
William … not good.
“Oil? Oily, you mean! That creep’s eyes were glued to your tits. He had only one thing on his mind and you were just too naïve to see it. He was totally disrespecting you.”
“That creep is Martin Howe’s grandson, and he was there to celebrate his grandfather’s retirement, just like we were supposed to be doing. The only man who disrespected me tonight is you, Bill. We’ve been talking about marriage for over two years now. Why would you think I’d be encouraging some man I just met at a cocktail reception? Where’s the trust? Besides, you spent all night flirting with your law clerk. Anybody in that ballroom would have thought she was your date. Talk about eyes glued to cleavage. I’m surprised you had time to even notice me!”
“I was instructing Carmen on some research I need for a case that starts next week. Don’t try and change the subject.” Bill spoke to Martine’s moving back as she headed for their bathroom.
“Roark and I were simply talking. You were all over that girl, Bill, and you weren’t instructing. You were seducing.” She spoke without even bothering to look over her shoulder.
Bill jumped as Martine slammed the bathroom door shut.
He was grateful for a few moments alone. He undressed and hung up his jacket and pants with uncharacteristic care. He trusted Martine implicitly and couldn’t figure out where his uncontrollable bouts of jealousy came from. He was the one who kept promising himself, as he lay spent in some other woman’s arms, that he’d resist temptation the very next time. Or, that it would be different after they married. And she was right about Carmen, too. He was attracted to her fiery youth and enthusiasm and her constant flattery was very easy to take. To be honest, he’d been about to make a move when he noticed that guy all over Martine and his virulent reaction had surprised even him. He shivered, remembering the chilly and crushingly embarrassing silence that had followed. His walk through that room had been the longest and most painful of his life.
“Bill, I’d like you to meet Roark Fallon. Roark, meet Bill Minors. Roark is a lawyer and he’s just moved into the new condos across from my place.”
My place … Not our place.
Her voice had been robotically precise and unemotional and as often as they’d spent nights together, at her place or his, she’d let this stranger know that she lived alone. That bulletin froze Bill’s balls. Martine had an independent streak that he didn’t understand and couldn’t control and that frightened the hell out of him. He’d been relieved when she’d abruptly called it a night. He needed to get her home, to begin damage control. He could taste her anger and disdain and it made him queasy.
“It was wonderful meeting you, Roark,” she’d said, reaching for his hand and clasping it warmly. “Hopefully we’ll get a chance to continue this conversation some other time.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Roark said.
She then turned on her heel and marched away and he’d had to almost run to keep up with her. She was taller than he was in her heels and at times like this, he hated that fact.
“Leaving so soon?”
Bill didn’t dare stop to talk to his associate Bryan, who was just arriving with his wife, and he realized that his bad behaviour was causing him a great night’s celebration of an even greater man. Martin Howe had been an inspiration to every lawyer in that firm and they’d all miss him. Bill had never spent time pondering the emotional landscape of his life, but at times like this he realized that he needed to. He was a professional who had allowed his personal hang-ups to torpedo an important commitment. He’d stay a junior forever at this rate. Also, the one thing Martine couldn’t abide was a double standard and that’s exactly what he was practicing. Every bone in his body wanted to turn back the clock and be back at the reception, back to Carmen and his bachelor pursuits. But, he also wanted Martine at his side and all to himself. The situation was clearly untenable and something would have to give, but he had no idea what that would be. Well, first things first. His immediate problem was Martine. He hung up his tie and draped his shirt over a chair. He slipped out of his boxers, undershirt and socks, threw them on a chair and patted the small rise of his belly. Not bad for fifty-four, he thought. He pulled on the lush cotton robe that Martine had recently bought him and splashed on a bit of the after shave she liked. He took a deep breath and prayed for mercy, as the door opened and Martine walked toward him.
She was stunning in a simple white diaphanous gown. Its lacy V-neck top outlined her huge round breasts and clung to her tiny waist. It fell gracefully to the floor, opening at the sides to flash her long limbs as she walked barefoot toward him. Everything about her spelled emotional constraint and he could tell she’d been weeping. Neither Carmen nor any other of the dolls in life’s windows could hold a candle to Martine and in that moment, he wanted her more than anything or anyone else in the world. He knew he would have to tread very carefully. He put his anxiety aside and moved toward her quickly. He knew what to say.
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking her in his arms. “I love you and I’m sorry”
“You really hurt me,” she said.
She stood toe to toe, eye to eye, taking his measure.
“I know,” he said, lifting her chin.
She met his kiss with trembling lips that soon turned hungry with passion. He led her to the bed and lay her down. The evening light bathed her waiting body. Bill started to draw the curtains, but stopped when he noticed movement, the sudden opening of vertical blinds directly across and one floor higher up. Bill recognized the fit six foot four frame, the perfectly manicured blond hair that just touched his shoulders. He recalled the neat moustache, the deep dimples and blue eyes that had held Martine’s attention, the smile that looked like it had been stolen from the cover of a Harlequin novel. Bill felt that same rage that he’d felt earlier. It was him, Roark, spying on his woman and Bill imploded with bitter rage and resentment.
Let him look. Let him see what he can’t have.
Bill couldn’t imagine a worse feeling than witnessing the object of your desire being stroked and serviced by another man. Bill wanted Roark to see them, to know that Bill was willing and able to give Martine all the pleasure she could handle. He looked directly into Roark’s floor to ceiling windows, nodded his head and bowed slightly. Roark stood looking out, immobile. Bill reached up and pulled open the curtain he had begun to close, affording Roark an unimpeded view of the bedroom.
“Oh,” he said startled, as he felt Martine’s arms encircle him.
Bill glanced up and was grateful to see that Roark had disappeared. The last thing he wanted was for Martine to know what he was up to. He was about to guide her toward the safety of the bed when she moved in front of him.
“It’s so hot,” she murmured. “Did you feel that? Was that a little breeze? Let’s stay right here. Rub my shoulders, Baby.”
Bill was thrilled on so many levels. First, it seemed that she had totally forgiven him and secondly, Roark, who he knew was lurking in the shadows, would have a full view of his hands on her shoulders and all over her magnificent tits.
Bill lifted her heavy mane of shining curls and kissed her long slender neck, loving the way she pressed back into him, loving her coos of appreciation. He nibbled her lobes and licked behind her ears. She liked that.
He could feel his cock growing and sexual energy surged and coursed through him. He wondered how long it would take Roark to pull out his own cock and start stroking with pent up sexual frustration. He wanted Roark to feel envy. He wanted him to desperately want what Bill was taking.
Bill moved on to her shoulders, kneading gently before releasing them, before moving on to her humongous breasts. They were so sensitive that he knew she’d soon be dripping wet. He massaged them, tweaking her long rubbery nipples through the lacy fabric of her gown. He lifted them high, touching them to her chin, loving the rippling of her long river of cleavage. He pressed his now hard cock into her ass, knowing she’d press back, knowing she’d sway her hips side to side over his leaking bulge.
Bill glanced up before easing Martine’s straps off her shoulders and felt a rush of excitement as he noticed what looked like some kind of opera glass pushed against Roark’s face. He exaggerated her tits’ release, lifting them up and out before releasing them to fall over the fabric of her gown, hanging low past her waist. Martine couldn’t have performed better if she’d known that she was starring in Bill’s special presentation to Roark.
Look, you bastard. Look, wank and weep . Bill eased Martine’s gown down past the soft swell of her belly, past the soft V of hair covering her pussy lips that were plump with the wet heat of her arousal. He felt guilty taking advantage of Martine this way, abusing her privacy. She believed they were here because it was cooler, although he couldn’t feel any air moving at all. All Bill cared about was that he was driving Roark insane and what Martine didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Bill reached around her and began to run his fingers lightly over the flesh of her thighs, up to her pussy. He manipulated her pussy lips against her clit, until she began to squirm, tossing her head from side to side, swaying her shoulders and breasts. Bill could feel his cock twitching to be inside her, but he resisted, delaying the inevitable.
He glanced up before coaxing her legs enough apart to finger her pussy, inject two fingers into her hot melting pot of intoxicating juices. He reached the spot that he knew would drive her insane and began to accommodate her push onto his fingers. She bent over herself, twisting her own nipple as Bill finger fucked her with one hand and manipulated her clit with another. Was Roark jerking off? Is that what Bill was seeing?
“Fuck me. Fuck me now!” Martine screamed.
Bill tried to bend her forward, to give it to her in the ass. That would get Roark. To see the beautiful elegant Martine bent over and being taken from behind, her heavy tits slapping and bouncing with every thrust. But Martine had slipped away and had spread-eagled herself on the bed. She’d lifted her legs in the air and opened them wide like a gate to paradise and Bill rushed over to her.
She couldn’t have picked a better pose, if she knew!
Bill dropped his robe, as he climbed onto the bed. He was facing the window. Roark would have full view of Martine’s tits and his cock. He stroked it, wishing that Roark could see the pre-cum bubbling from its head. He rubbed it over Martine’s clit, teasing the entrance, pinching her nipples, making her beg for it.
“Now,” she said, pumping her hips into the air.
Bill looked and assured himself that he had Roark’s full attention before plunging into her and the zone. Martine rose to meet him, thrust for thrust, and he could feel himself climbing the tower, higher and higher.
“God, yes,” she said, arching her back and thrusting her gigantic bouncing, jiggling orbs high in the air.
One look and Bill fell forward. He balanced himself on his hands and rode the train to glory. When he knew that he could hold on no longer he heard Martine’s shriek.
“I’m coming.”
And he came, too, every ounce of his passion exploding deep inside her.
He didn’t think about Roark again until they lay spent and content in each other’s arms.
“That was wonderful. Thank you,” he said, raising himself on an elbow and gazing down at Martine.
“It was my pleasure,” Martine said, yawning, her face glowing with satisfaction.
Bill was quite pleased with himself. He glanced up, but Roark was nowhere to be seen.
Mission accomplished.
Bill had left no doubt about whose woman Martine was. He looked down at her. Her eyes were shut and she looked truly at peace, truly beautiful. He glanced at the bedside clock. 7:15 PM. He was only ten minutes away from the dinner.
“I made a mess of things earlier and I need to make amends. If I hurry, I can still make it to the dinner. That’s the least I can do.”
He kissed Martine on the cheek before bounding out of the bed. He hardly noticed the freezing of her smile or the way her eyes turned into cold ebony slits.
“You’re doing what?” she asked, sitting bolt upright. “And he isn’t even going to ask if I want to go with him,” she said, softly to herself.
She could hear Bill singing in the shower and he was dried and dressed within ten minutes.
“Didn’t have enough, eh?”
Martine’s legs were spread lewdly and she was stroking her clit, finger fucking herself and moaning with pleasure. She was begging for more, but he didn’t have time and that he didn’t want Roark to witness. He rushed to the window and pulled the curtain shut. He couldn’t see Roark, but just in case.
“It’s still hot. Open that curtain,” Martine demanded, continuing to pleasure her pussy, a catlike grin playing around the corners of her mouth.
Bill opened the curtain. Roark was nowhere to be seen and Bill was glad. He had no more time for this. He had places to go.
* * *
It was past midnight when Bill returned to Martine’s apartment. The dinner had gone well and he’d managed to make light of his earlier outburst, laying the blame squarely at the feet of ‘that scoundrel Roark who was just as charming as his grandfather’.
He’d had to persuade Carmen to forgive him for dropping her so suddenly to run to Martine’s defence. Of course he gave her a drive home and owed her at least a good night kiss. That one’s a firecracker, he thought, as their tongues tangoed and his cock again lurched to attention. He almost broke when she came in for the second kiss and her hand found and stroked his leaping weeping cock. But tonight was too dangerous. Martine might be awake and waiting. He resisted her invitation for a night cap.
“Some other time,” he promised, as he walked her to her door.
“You’re not married, yet,” he forgave himself, as he walked back to his car.
The apartment was dark except for a light in the study. A wrapped and ribboned DVD sat on the desk with a card: It’s good to return favors. Enjoy, Martine.
Bill slipped the DVD into the player. A naked Martine was pressed against the floor to ceiling windows of an apartment. A man’s hands were fondling her breasts, his ultra long cock dangled waiting between his legs. She turned into him and kissed his dimples, ears and nipples before dropping to the floor and taking his cock in her mouth.
What the fuck! Martine was in Roark’s apartment and the view was from here!
Bill felt like he was drifting in and out of consciousness. The man with the shoulder length hair was behind her now, thrusting in and out of her pussy and she screamed her pleasure. They’d arranged for sound. Roark oiled his huge cock slowly and thoroughly before plunging it into Martine’s ass, a place Bill had never been allowed to visit.
When he could get up, he went to the bedroom, not at all surprised to see it empty, not at all surprised at the bedside note that said: I hope you’re having as good a night as I am. Sleep tight, Martine.
He crawled into her bed. He could smell her everywhere. It gave him comfort because that was as close as he could manage tonight. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but he wasn’t going to lose her. No matter what he had to do! He wasn’t about to lose her. He cried himself into a fitful sleep.
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