| Whispers and Perfume |
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By Margo Perry
(margo707 AT rogers DOT com)
Farley held the phone as far from his ear as he could, allowing his sister Pam’s vitriol to hiss unchallenged into the silent room.
I told you she was a tramp before you married her. What kind of cow sleeps with her husband’s best friend? Don’t worry, I’ll handle the divorce myself, free of . . .
A sudden click cut through the ambient roar of traffic fifty-four floors below, interrupting his sister’s rant. The well-lit office suite immediately plunged into darkness.
“Sis, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.” He spoke quickly, urgently and hung up.
Farley squinted, trying to read the darkness. He couldn’t see, but he could hear. Whispers, high pitched and tense. Women’s voices. More than one. He listened harder, but couldn’t catch the words. Behind him, he felt a female force approaching like a damp, thick fog. He shivered in the comfortably warm room.
“Who goes there?” Farley demanded loudly, thinking that a little humour might ease the tension.
Smells. Chanel No. 5. His wife’s choice mixed with something more tangy. Something sweetly Oriental. Whispers, perfumes and quickly moving shadows. He felt cool hands along his face and an elastic band joined to material, soft and velvety, being drawn over his head, committing him to blindness. The clang of metal pierced his brain as handcuffs imprisoned each of his wrists against the cold arms of his ergonomic chair.
“Like taking candy from a baby.”
Farley recognised his wife Carly’s voice. Gone was the mewling, tearful supplicant begging for his forgiveness, pleading that he give their marriage one more try. In her place was a taunting, disdainful dominant, unknown and very, very frightening.
“I know it’s you, Carly. What do you want?”
Farley spoke confidently, even though his heart raced and his mouth ran dry just being close to her. He hadn’t seen her since he’d kicked her out of their home and he now had to face just how much she’d dominated his thoughts, how much he’d missed her. How could she have slept with his best friend since high school? How could Donald have slept with her? A feeling of desperate aloneness lodged in the pit of his stomach. It was as if his legs had been torn from him and things wooden and unmoving left in their place.
“I want our life back. And the house we lived in, the one I decorated and you so summarily tossed me out of during the worst time of my life.”
“Worst time of your life! How dare you! I’m the aggrieved party here,” Farley exploded angrily.
“I’m here to convince you that you’re wrong, that I deserve a second chance,” Carly continued calmly.
“Dream on. I told you, we’re through and there’s nothing you can do about it. Now, unlock these cuffs and get out!”
“Get out? But, we haven’t even begun our persuasions. We’re here to bring you to your senses. But first, a drink. Come on girls.”
Farley yanked his arms away from the chair, shaking his head frantically, as if that would rid him of his blindfold. The exercise merely hurt his wrists, leaving him feeling helpless, delirious and confused. A month ago, he’d been living a charmed life. The law firm, left to him and his sister by their parents, provided them good and privileged lives. His six year old marriage to Carly, he’d thought, was going well. Until he’d found her with his best pal, in their own home - never mind on the living room floor - in flagrante delicto. The pain had blinded him to everything except the need for punishing revenge. He’d cast both of them out of his life. For good, or so he thought.
He felt uncommonly weary. He’d suffered a deep depression, over the last ten months, that was almost paralyzing. He hadn’t been able to even speak about their separation, except to his sister who had badgered it out of him. All he could manage was to put in a day’s work and then return home to his private mourning. And now, he was being forced to suffer this ungodly intrusion on his person and privacy. Why couldn’t Carly just stay away? He still loved her, but he couldn’t have her. Her betrayal had seen to that. And he hated her for it. Love and hate were twisting in his brain like sheets in a hurricane and he couldn’t grab onto either emotion. What did Carly intend to do with him? Who was with her? He could hear the women moving around. And a scraping sound. Moving chairs? Maybe And the tinkling of ice in glasses, the occasional silvery giggle. It was all too much. He could hear the gentle whir of the humidifier. Feel it’s gentle flow over his legs. He took mental stock of his situation. He was, at present, locked to a chair, blindfolded and therefore, powerless. He had no choice, but to play along. Carly wasn’t insane, so he was in no real danger. All he’d have to do was co-operate in whatever silly scheme she had planned and, when it was done, tell her to go straight to hell! Suddenly, he sensed them surrounding him. He could hear his own heartbeat quickening and the heady cocktail of fragrances was making him dizzy and a bit nauseous. How many of them were there? It occurred to him that women in numbers created a very mysterious and formidable force.
“Lift your feet,” Carly ordered from some distance away.
Farley lifted his feet, feeling awkward and foolish.
“Who are you women and what do you want from me?”
He was greeted by silence, except for the insinuating growl of casters rolling over the hardwood floor and the chair’s squeaky complaint as they began to twirl Farley in tight circles.
“Please stop,” he said. His thighs were beginning to cramp from holding his legs off the floor.
Carly’s giggle interrupted the deafening silence, but they did stop wheeling him in circles.
“We’re drinking martinis. There’s a very rare Scotch with your name on it if you’ll behave yourself. Will you, if we uncuff your drinking arm? Come on, baby. Let’s not make this any more painful than it has to be.”
“I’d love a drink,” Farley said, “and feel free to remove both cuffs. I’m not going anywhere.”
Carly padded across the room. She must have been for a run, Farley thought. Sounds like she’s wearing her running shoes. He imagined her: blonde hair blowing in the wind. Her favourite track suit failing to hide her toned lean body. Her doll-like face and bright blue eyes sparkling as she looked up at him happily, endorphins raging. He could feel her. She was close now. Real close. He could clearly smell, not just the Chanel, but the smell of it on her skin. He remembered dabbing it behind her ears, hiding it under her firm, round perfect breasts like some sweet, sweet secret. In his mind, her breasts were bigger. In his mind, they were gargantuan. Manna for his lifelong fetish for big breasts. And he smiled, as she released his hand and tenderly kissed inside his wrist. In spite of himself and his situation, a seductive warmth fell over him like a blanket, stirring his cock and tingling that sensitive area between ass and balls. He wanted to touch himself or better have her do it for him.
“Please don’t go,” he wanted to say, as he felt her turn away.
“Suppose I just take off this stupid blindfold,” he heard himself say, as she walked away.
Why did I say something so stupid? . . .
Carly’s response was immediate. She was back beside him in the wink of an eye and his recently freed hand was back in lockup.
“You see, that’s what this is all about. I don’t know whether you lie to yourself first and then to me. Or whether the lies are specifically created for my bamboozlement. I don’t know and I don’t care. But it all stops today.”
Farley felt like a whipped puppy. He was used to being in power. Never helpless. Didn’t everybody lie? Farley felt himself sliding low in his chair and a slight headache was teasing the back of his neck. Stress. He could hear Carly leaving him again and then, more silence. And in that quiet dark, Farley found that his thoughts were elusive, short lived and disordered. Something was missing, some fact that would make sense of all this. Think, he silently admonished himself. Think . . .
How can Carly blame me for what she did? What did I have to do with . . .
“Why don’t you go and say, ‘hello’. Then we’ll have another drink,” Carly said.
“Okay.”
A second voice. A very familiar voice. And then the click …click… click of high heels on hardwood. The pace slow, the steps long. A tall person taking long strides. And the scent of her wafting toward him was just as familiar. Vanilla. Christian Dior’s Addict. And with the scent came recognition - Jessie, his personal assistant for many years. In fact, he’d bought her that very perfume for her birthday.
“Jessie, is that you?” he asked, as soon as the clicking stopped.
“Yes, it’s me,” she said.
“What are you doing here?”
“Carly asked me to come. Said I would be doing both of you a favour.”
“Me a favour by bloody well kidnapping me?”
“She still loves you, Farley, and you love her. I think it’s time you really thought about your life and where you’re going.”
Farley felt betrayed. The relationship he’d built with Jessie was all about trust. They had always had each other’s back. Had never crossed a line. Why had Carly involved her in all this?
“This is outrageous and if it doesn’t stop soon, I’m going to need you to call the police.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Carly shouted from across the room.
She was getting tipsy and that worried him. A drunken Carly was a very unpredictable, adventurous and uncontrollable Carly.
“Isn’t it time to stop all this?” he asked.
“Are you ready to call off your sister, welcome me back with open arms and get on with our lives?” she asked him.
“You know that’s impossible . . ..”
“Okay, then. Leave him alone, Jessie.”
Click …click… click. Click …click… click. It was Jessie’s smell that was tugging at some memory. Some bothersome memory that he wished he could shut out, but couldn’t. It was within reach …
That fateful day in January. Jessie buzzing him right after his noon meeting with a client.
“Your wife called. She really needs you to come home. It’s very important.”
“Okay, you go on to your dental appointment and take the rest of the day. I’ll just finish up here and be on my way. There’s nothing pressing today. Nothing that Pam can’t handle.”
But, he hadn’t gone home. He’d answered a few phone calls and when Pam had come in to ask his advice on a case, he’d become totally involved in it, completely forgetting Carly’s call. He’d left her a cryptic message: Something had come up and he was having dinner with Pam. He got home well after 10:00PM and found a weeping Carly in the arms of his best friend. Farley felt like he was going mad. Nothing was as he’d thought.
What have I done. She needed me. I wasn’t there . . .
“I forgot your message. I didn’t come home. I’m so sorry, Carly. What did you want that day?” Panic had raised Farley’s voice quite a few octaves. “I didn’t remember until right now.”
“Farley, you forgot a lot of things,” Carly snarled. “Why don’t you go and jog his memory a bit.”
“I will.”
A third voice. Vaguely familiar. Pitched lower than Carly’s. Again, this click, click, clicking toward him. And another fragrance. Familiar and getting stronger. An Oriental accent. Floral, but exotic. Opium. Opium on Martha’s skin. And with that distinction came a memory, so sharp that it might have happened, not four years ago, but the night before. How had Carly found out about Martha? His cock shrivelled to nothing and his hands grew cold and wet with terror. He had forced himself to forget Martha. Forget what he’d done with Martha. And here she was, at the worst of times, bringing the proverbial chickens home to roost. How had Carly found her? What did she know about them? He guessed everything and in that moment of fear and self-loathing, Farley faced just how much he still wanted his marriage, as he saw his life shattering, in slow motion. Shards falling away from a huge breaking plate glass window.
“Imagine my surprise when your wife called me,” Martha whispered in his ear. “Imagine my discomfort when I had to admit to a certain adventure that could have put my whole career in jeopardy. As your stewardess, I was meant to serve, not service you. Those stolen nights we spent together were wonderful until you spoiled it all. All because you had to throw stones at Carly from your very glass house.”
He felt her fingernails scratching his scalp the way he liked it. But her doing it now seemed forced, exhibitionist and humiliating, even as his nipples zinged and his cock grew. Horniness was back in play again.
“What are you planning to do?”
“This is Carly’s party. I’m just here to follow orders. If you love her and want her back, I’d advise you to go along with whatever it is she’s planned. This is probably your last and only chance.”
Martha kissed Farley gently on the lips. He shuddered with excitement and anxiety. Where in the room was Carly? Had she seen? Heard? And then the click, click, clicking of heels again as Martha retreated. Farley remembered her in her flight attendant’s uniform: sparkling white shirt and pinstriped vest, straining under the pressure of tits so big that Farley hadn’t been able to keep from following her with his eyes, catching glimpses of their magnificence from every angle he could. Her skirt stopped just above the knees, perfectly setting off her shapely legs. When she’d bent over to offer him a glass of champagne, he had smelled her perfume. Opium, she’d told him it was. When she’d plopped down beside him, too early for a landing, he’d noticed her full lips and beautifully sculpted cheekbones, her grey smoking eyes and dark lustrous pageboy. She was beautiful, sultry and provocative. They talked. And she’d twisted, giving him full view of her huge breasts, breasts that had every man onboard panting after her. But she’d measured his longing and chosen him. She’d spread the blanket over their laps, over his bourgeoning cock. She’d made him take it out. Dared him to make a sound. Seduced him into jerking off as he devoured her tits with watery lust-filled eyes.
After that, he’d lost his mind. They were staying at the same hotel where his deposition would take place one hour after landing. There was no harm in sharing one little drink in the hotel bar to celebrate when he was done. The plan to meet was set before landing. It was all innocence, he told himself, despite their masturbation scene. All innocence, even when he ordered two perfumes from the on flight boutique: Chanel No 5 for Carly and Opium for Martha. Martha was an animal, a beautiful sexual predator, and that attracted him more than he wanted to admit. And let’s not forget her breasts, those magnificent orbs that entered his mind and would not leave. Carly didn’t have large breasts and he’d married her anyway, assuring him that he wasn’t completely obsessed. But he was. And Martha had proven it to him. He remembered thinking about Carly, about his commitment to her. But the pull of Martha and her magnificent breasts was too strong to resist. He told himself that there was nothing wrong with what he was doing. It was just a drink they were planning, wasn’t it? Until, Martha called in sick and got the rest of the week off. Until he called Carly to tell her that the already completed disposition had been delayed and he wouldn’t be home until the end of the week. Innocent because he’d pushed his infidelity into a private place, a place never to be uncovered. Until now.
“What can I do to make this right? Carly, tell me what to do?”
Farley could hardly recognize his own voice. It was thready, weak and pleading. All he wanted was to make things better. All he needed was redemption.
“Carly, please. Say something.”
Farley’s headache was truly back again and stress sweat trickled from his armpits. He waited, aware of the silence and the room’s air touching his face and hands. It felt soothing.
He sat up straight, as Jessie’s stern and sombre voice fairly echoed through the room. He knew the tone well. Jessie meant business.
“Carly, let’s have your opening statement and any questions you might have for the defendant. I hope you understand, Farley, you are the defendant and you’re charged with Unfairness: Booting Carly out of the house because she found comfort in Donald’s arms, comfort that you were unable or unwilling to give. On the very day the doctor found a lump in her breast.”
“Oh no,” Farley cried. “I didn’t know. Why didn’t somebody . . .?”
“Don’t interrupt,” Jessie continued. “And before you ask, of course Donald took her in and saw her through the biopsy and removal of the damned thing. Carly didn’t want this brought up today, but I thought this was information you should have. I decided, unilaterally, that you needed to think and feel everything you are thinking and feeling at this very moment. I love you dearly, but I also need to respect you. You’re my boss. We need your honest cooperation. So, let’s go, Carly.”
“I have only one question for you, Farley. Did you, two years into our marriage, have a weeklong affair with Martha?”
“You know I did. Now, I have two question for you. Why didn’t you tell me about your medical problems? And how long have you known about Martha? Why didn’t you confront me?”
“That’s three questions. The first is none of your business. It’s been taken care of. And your sister busted your sorry butt right after you called to lie to me. Your client called her to let her know how well and expeditiously you’d conducted the preparation. So, I knew you were up to something. When you got back, I looked for clues and found them.
“What clues?” Farley asked.
“That’s none of your business,” Jessie said. “What’s important is that you have confessed to sleeping with Martha for fun, while throwing Carly out of her house for accepting much needed comfort from Donald. Comfort that you denied her. So Carly, let’s cut to the chase. He’s been found guilty of Unfairness. Double standards. What’s his punishment?”
“I want him and Martha to show me exactly what they did on that plane. What started all this. Then we’ll both know, first hand, that we each made mistakes.”
“Farley, are you ready to accept this punishment?”
“Yes,” Farley said. “I’ll do anything you say, Jessie. I just want our life back.”
“Okay, then I’m out of here. Just remember Farley, from her on in, when I tell you to call your wife, just do it. Play nice now, and I’ll see you both soon.”
Click…click…click…click. Softer and softer. A hint of Addict drifted in her wake. One down, Farley thought. But he was still blindfolded and handcuffed. He was still at Carly’s mercy.
“Come,” Martha cooed. “Come with us.”
The women were on either side of him, each releasing a cuff. He rubbed his wrists, relieving the numbness that had set in. For a moment, he considered ending things, pushing these women out of his way, ditching the blindfold and throwing them out of his office. He had the strength, but did he have the will? Actions spoke louder than words, as Farley found himself rising to his feet, allowing himself to be led across the room and onto one of the couches.
“Don’t mind me,” Carly said. “Show me. How did it all start?”
Farley could feel Martha’s huge breasts leaning against his arm, just as it had when she dropped into the seat beside him.
“You’ve been staring at me all through this flight,” Martha said, “and I think I know why. It’s these.”
Farley felt the blindfold slipping over his head. Carly. Standing behind them.
“Thanks,” he said, blinking into the soft lamplight.
Carly seemed to have mysteriously disappeared, but Martha was very much present, sitting beside him. He gasped. She was in uniform and her breasts and massive cleavage spilled out of the shirt. “This is going to be fun,” she said, twisting herself into Farley, smoothing her palms seductively over the huge expanse of her breasts. “Why do you love these so much?” she asked, slipping her fingers inside her blouse to surreptitiously squeeze her aroused nipple. “Look at little Johnny,” she said, pointing at Farley’s cock. “Well, it isn’t so little anymore. It loves these. It wants to come out to play. It’s so big. It’s suffocating inside those tiny pants.”
“I can’t,” Farley squirmed. “Carly’s here. I can’t.”
He felt tears of frustration sting his eyes. He was so aroused. So embarrassed. He blushed as he felt pre-cum ooze out of his cock head. “Please,” he begged, as he watched the wet stain spread over his suit pants.
“I’ve had enough of you. Take it out. Now!” Carly commanded.
“Oh my,” Farley said, as Carly strode around the couch to stand in front of them.
Carly was wearing a white turtleneck, its fibres stretched wide to cover her outrageously large breasts. She was Farley’s fantasy come true. Her blonde hair was piled uncharacteristically high on her head, showing off her long neck. Wayward curls had escaped to fall softly around her face, setting off the brilliance of her blue eyes. Her black skirt would have been the pride of any hooker, falling short enough to entice with firm bun-cheeks that peeped from beneath it. Knee high, high heeled leather boots finished her ensemble.
“Now take it out.”
Farley felt transported. He had no idea what planet he was on, but it felt like home. This was a new Carly, a Carly in charge. And he like it. He felt regressed into someone younger, purer, more curious. He unzipped his pants and, with trembling fingers, took out his fully engorged cock.
“Is this what you want?” he whispered.
“It is, my pet. Now say good bye to Martha and all the Martha’s of the world, now and forever. Look at me. Love me. And play with yourself.”
Farley didn’t know when Martha had left the room, but he was now alone on the couch, cock in hand. He began to caress himself tenderly, gazing at his beloved Carly as she slid one breast against the other, up and down, exaggerating the line of her cleavage and their size.
“You’re so beautiful,” Farley gushed. “You’re all I want or need.”
Carly rubbed her cheek against their pillowy softness and Farley trembled as a powerful current of erotic energy shook his body. He was on the edge. His hands began to stroke frantically.
“Look,” Carly said.
She bent over slightly and her pendulous breasts hung low. She slowly lifted her skirt to reveal her naked pink pussy lips.
“Do you know that I haven’t had a man since that night? Do you know how much I’ve wanted and missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
Nibbling her lips provocatively, Carly shifted her shoulders, swaying her boobs left and right. How they drooped and swayed. Farley was conscious somewhere in his being that Carly’s breasts were more than her breasts, but it didn’t matter. Believing was all. Carly slipped between Farley’s legs. She bent and spread hers and reached inside her pussy. She pulled out fingers that were glistening wet and placed them beneath Farley’s nostrils. Farley swooned. “I’m going to come.”
“Soon,” Carly said.
She poised her pussy over his cock and eased herself down until they were a tight fit. She stared unmoving into his eyes. “From now on, I want to be known as Mistress Samantha. Now repeat it like a good boy.”
Farley’s cock, his whole body was building to a grave climax. He loved being her good boy. He was glad to submit. He wanted her to ride him. Fuck him. But she wouldn’t move.
“Please,” he pleaded.
“Please who?”
“Please Mistress Samantha.”
She didn’t move really, but muscles Farley had never felt before began to caress and pump and squeeze his excited cock. Whatever her pussy was doing seemed to be attached to his every nerve ending. He heard himself whimpering as he came, pounding an excess of cum deep inside her and he had never felt so safe or sure. He had found home and he knew he’d never wander again.
At home, Farley and Carly lay in bed, arms wrapped tight around each other. Everything was the same. Everything was different. Farley dabbed perfume behind her ears and under her perfect little breasts.
“I love you, Farley.”
“I adore you, Carly and I’ll call Donald tomorrow and make things right, whatever I have to do.”
They fell asleep, both thinking of Mistress Samantha and the many adventures that lay ahead. |