As usual, don't read a Troubador story if you are looking for sex. This is different from my usual story, but I think you'll know the people I'm writing about, like some of them and dislike others.
"Dammit! Another big week planned with Susan, another 'emergency' call from the boss!" thought Darwin as he hefted his big portmanteau in one hand, his suitcase in the other. Out of hands he swung his hips against the door from the kitchen to the garage. It crashed open, rebounding off the stops and coming back hard, catching him on the shoulder. When he got back home he was fixing that damned catch. He just wasn't getting enough time at home with his family to do routine chores.
Shoving his bags in the trunk of the Ford Taurus Darwin slammed the trunk then yanked the driver's door open. It swung out hard, catching his new BMW and nicking the paint. Just his luck, if he had to ding a car he'd rather it was the company Ford he was driving than his beloved Beemer. Settling behind the wheel he stewed over his loss of control at the unfairness of the world.
Cursing softly over the damage to his Beemer he keyed open the garage door and pulled out onto his driveway. As he turned onto the street he looked hard at the front door, then up at the window to the master bedroom. Susan wasn't at the front door to see him off, but he thought he saw the curtains twitch in the bedroom window. He hoped his wife had simmered down enough to at least watch him leave on another god damned weeklong trouble shooting trip. If she had, she hadn't waved to him as he drove off.
The phone had rung just before nine this morning, just late enough not to interrupt their morning nookie. But not late enough to allow Susan to fully bask in the after sex glow she so enjoyed. "Me too!" he thought.
Darwin had promised her a big night on the town tonight, Saturday, and then they were leaving for their cabin on the lake tomorrow morning. It was already August and they hadn't been to the lake one time all summer. She was mad, he was disgusted, and the equipment at the Houston plant had taken a siesta. He hoped to hell he could get it running without another week there. The last time in Houston it had been a three week job. He couldn't seem to get it through the plant manager's head that routine maintenance wasn't money better spent for something that looked pretty.
"God damn it to hell, anyway!" he thought. "Houston in August! And the wife thinks this is some kind of pleasure trip! I should have taken her with me."
This was the third emergency jaunt already this summer. It was no wonder Susan was pissed. Hell! It pissed him off too.
In a way he was glad to miss the evening out. Susan had planned it with her best friend Darla and Darla's husband. He liked Darla well enough; she was funny and smart to go with her model's looks and shiny cap of blonde hair. Darla alongside his petite Susan with her curly hair made quite a picture. But her asshole, leech of a husband, Randy, was something else again.
The son of a bitch was always making passes at Susan. He did it when Darwin was there and it didn't seem to matter if Darla was there. Darwin casually mentioned to Randy the last time they were out that the next time he caught his hands on his wife's ass while they were dancing he'd break that hand. He was a big, sloppy ex-college football player, a linebacker, and laughed at Darwin.
Well, it would be a pleasure to demonstrate how it could be done.
A thought hit him hard. He had assumed Susan would cancel the evening out. He hadn't discussed it with Susan. He wouldn't want her out with that bastard, even with Darla there with them. Susan was angry enough to make it a night on the town without him.
Things hadn't been going well in the marriage of late. Susan was talking of kids, and he liked that idea. But he wanted to be there to coach his girl's softball team or his son's little league team. And he wanted to do more than hear about his kids daring-do on the soccer pitch. The hours he worked wouldn't allow it. Susan was getting really impatient; she wanted kids. The way the money was piling up, with investments and bonuses, it wouldn't be long before he could afford to thumb his nose at a nine to five job. Hell, he hadn't seen a forty hour week since the Truman administration, and his parents hadn't been born then.
"Well, dammit! That was just too bad!" he fumed as he drove. He had promised his wife these hours would be a thing of the past when he had his nest egg! She just had to be patient, that's all.
A thought snuck up and hit him. He hated when they did that! He hadn't checked his "author's account" at the bank. He had been writing smutty romance crap for an ebook publisher under the nym, "Dee Troubador." The royalties and what not he had going into an account in his name. He was planning to surprise Susan with it one of these days, but she knew noting about it to date. The balance was getting impressive. Not what a real author might get, but pretty good for an amateur part time writer.
The money hadn't been touched, just sat there earning minimum interest. Truth be told, he loved writing, even if it was hard work, but he was embarrassed at the genre. He wrote Romances. He liked the damn things, liked to read them and liked to write them, but in the back of his head he thought it was sissy for a guy to read them, much less write them. "Hell," he thought, "I even disguised my nym so women would think its author was a woman."
According to the clock he had plenty of time to make the plane. He'd go see how much was in the account. Swinging right at the next intersection he headed to his branch bank. Pulling through the drive-thru window he used his bankcard to access his "authors account."
"Holy SHIT!" came out of his mouth before he could stop it. The money had been coming through steadily and over the last year he had a respectable balance. But the damn thing had suddenly exploded, more than tripled in value. Thinking back he realized he hadn't looked at it since January, and his adventure-romance had come out in February. Then he'd put the finishing touches on a long-in-the-hopper pure romance. Keerist! He had over a third of a million sitting there. Their investments, savings and bank account came to more than that, but they had grown over time. This was unreal. He had enough capital to quit and live well off the interest if he was careful and frugal. And he didn't plan to stop writing.
Pulling back onto the road his mind was racing a mile a minute. "Son of a gun! I don't have to be in Houston until tomorrow afternoon. The only reason I'm leaving tonight is the boss's insistence." Darwin wouldn't be in the plant until late tomorrow, he'd just be rotting in the hotel. And nothing was going to be done until Monday even then. His bastard boss just wanted to show HIS boss how on top of things his department was.
"Fuck it!" he said, "I'm going to take Susan out tonight anyway. Pulling into a 7/11 store he called the airline on his cell phone and changed his first class ticket to tomorrow afternoon. "That'll give me time to sober up," he chuckled.
Driving slowly, anticipating the pleasure of breaking the news to Susan, it was an hour and a half after he had pulled out of the house before he was back home. The shadows were getting long as he pulled into his garage.
Tossing the door open, he remembered and made a panic grab at the door to keep it from slamming into his BMW. But son of a bitch, the Beemer wasn't there! Susan's Volvo was in its nook, but his Beemer was gone.
Susan was truly, deep down livid-mad as she peeked through the curtain watching Darwin drive off. She'd warned the son-of-a-bitch he had better not do this to her again! She wanted a real family life, with kids and all. Her asshole husband just wanted to climb the corporate ladder.
"Well, fuck the dumb bastard!" she thought as she stripped her clothes off to take a shower. She was going out tonight with or without the son-of-a-bitch.
Snatching up the phone she called Darla. "Hey, sweetie, everything on for tonight?" she asked.
"Absofuckinglutely," Darla answered. Reservations are made, I'm hot to trot and Randy's getting dressed as I speak."
"Hold that thought, sweetie," Susan answered. "My asshole husband took off for Houston of all ungodly places to go in August. But I'm heading to the shower and will be ready in record time. Hey! I'll meet you at your place and we can ride to the restaurant together. See you in thirty minutes, OK? Bring that hunky husband with you. See you there!"
Darla agreed, the two women 'made-nice' and hung up.
Moments later Susan was rinsing her short, blonde curly hair under the shower. It came down just to her ears, the curls giving her the "just out of bed" look. Darwin really liked it. Angry with her husband she watched the bubbles slip down her nice cleavage, over her taut tummy and catch in her bush. Leaning back she washed it off her front, then used a washcloth to soap her nicely firm breasts, paying extra attention to her nipples. It felt good, and she was proud of the way her big nipples poked out when aroused.
Making quick work of cleaning her privates and back she shut off the water and grabbed one of the big bath sheets. In moments she was studying her wardrobe to decide what to wear. She was ticked off enough at Darwin to want to look truly sexy tonight. Hell, she might even do something about it for once. He'd never find out about it, and she had it coming. Until the bastard gave her that kid, she wouldn't feel like a married lady anyway. So anything that happened was on his own head. She giggled at the unintended double entendre.
Snatching the blouse and skirt she planned to wear she turned to the dresser. She wanted to not only look sexy, but feel daring too. She pulled out her red "almost" panties with all the lace and their matching half-bra that held her up but left her nipples bare to poke.
"Kind of nice being able to dress this way for Randy," she thought. "Randy was getting too open in his moves in front of Darwin. Maybe we can 'talk' or something and get him to back off in front of Darwin." She giggled for a moment; "Randy's going to get surprised one of these days when Dar takes him to the cleaners. The big oaf has no idea what my little man can do," she thought. "Or my little man's BIG man?" giggling again. "It's going to be tough changing into a soccer mom," she thought. "But I'm looking forward to it. I'm going to be a good mom."
In under an hour later she was dressed and gussied up, had left a message on the answering machine and was climbing into the Beemer to meet Randy and Darla. She loved the Volvo, but tonight was a "Beemer" night.
Walking into the house half an hour later Darwin called Susan's name, but got no answer. He hadn't expected one. Picking up the phone, he punched in the code to listen to the answering machine message. His wife thought he was now on an airplane to Houston, and if she was going out she'd leave a message for him on the answering machine. Susan's voice came through, sweet and friendly, "Hi, folks. We're not available at the moment, but we'll get to you first thing tomorrow. Darwin, honey. If it's you, I am with Darla for a few hours. Talk to you tomorrow. Ta ta."
"Jesus, she couldn't even wait until next weekend. Well, hell!" he thought, "I'm here now and damned if I'm going to wander around the house until she gets home sometime tonight."
Taking a few minutes to sluice off in the shower, he pulled his travel suit back on. He had no idea why he did that; it just seemed the thing to do.
He was at the restaurant where they had been planning to start the evening within minutes of their scheduled reservation. Surveying the room, he spotted Susan and her friends in a secluded nook in a back corner of the restaurant. They were sitting at a window, separated from the rest of the main dining area with a fern-planting box. He wouldn't have found them there if he hadn't been sure they were here someplace.
He started heading that way when the seating arrangement stopped him. Randy was sitting against the outside wall with Darla on one side of him, Susan on the other. Randy had an arm around each woman's shoulder. He was whispering something in one woman's ear, than turning his head to whisper in the other's ear. He couldn't tell from where he was standing but it looked like the son of a bitch was tonguing an ear along with the whispers. Son of a bitch was going to pay for that.
Watching Randy's arm around his wife, the hand absently playing with the collar of her nearly translucent cream silk blouse he stopped. If he walked over there he wouldn't be able to stop himself from throwing the man out of the restaurant. Hardly the scene he wanted to make and not a way to make Susan glad he showed up. Watching the three he suddenly realized she was wearing her red demi-bra under that white blouse. Jesus! Up close it must shine through like a beacon!
As he watched, the server carried the trio's drinks over from the bar. They must have just been seated. Randy's glass was half full, as was Darla's. Susan's glass was near empty and as he watched she sent the waiter off to get her a fresh drink while they studied the menu.
The drink looked like one of her favorites, a strawberry daiquiri. As Darwin watched she drank half of it down before sitting it back on the table. Darwin headed for the bar, taking a seat at one end where he was inconspicuous yet could see what was going on at the trio's table. With his drink order, he asked the bartender to bring him a club sandwich.
Darwin stewed at the bar, eating his sandwich and sipping his scotch and soda while watching the scene behind the ferns. He could hardly believe it but before the dinners arrived Randy had a hand inside each girl's blouse. Darla made no fuss, acting as if her husband feeling up her best friend was old news.
Maybe it was.
By the time dinner was over Susan had slurped down two more daiquiris and was obviously tight and giggly. Randy didn't seem to be feeling the drinks he had downed and Darla seemed perfectly sober. Knowing her, however, Darwin was sure she was at least a mite tiddly also. Darla had to be pretty far gone before anyone noticed.
After dinner the group had an aperitif, looked like a Brandy Alexander from where Darwin sat. When the check came Darwin was disgusted to see his wife grab the bill, pull a credit card from her purse and apparently pay the whole bill. Randy the tight wad made no effort to pick it up himself. Instead, Darwin would be paying for his wife's night on the town while he was supposedly out of town. He began to wonder if this was routine while he was off sweating because some fool didn't believe in oiling the machinery.
"That's just like him," Darwin thought, but wondered about Susan footing the bill. It had to be over a hundred bucks in this restaurant.
When the girls got up to go the powder room, Darwin hunched over his drink, taking care they wouldn't notice him. They were giggling and having too good a time to even notice he was there.
After they passed him he turned around to watch the two of them walking away. Darwin did a double take. "Holy bananas, Susan put that red skirt away last year. She said it was too tight for comfort and decency and way too short for an old married lady. She had been weeding things out of her closet that she didn't think a proper wife and good mother would wear.
She had been right, too. The damned thing only reached halfway down her thighs. She couldn't possibly sit down in public without giving a show. If she hadn't been sitting behind the table for dinner she would have been giving the room a good show. What in hell was she doing wearing it out? Not only wearing it out but without her husband in tow! Dammit, if I bend over I can get a crotch shot!"
Before the girls came out he had paid his bill and exited to his car. Sitting in the company Ford he watched the three tipsy friends climb into his Beemer. That pissed him off, too. It was his goddamned car! He didn't want Randy the ass hole to drive it.
Sure as God made little green apples, when the Beemer left the parking lot Randy was driving, Susan sitting beside him and Darla in the back seat. Darwin fell in right behind them making no effort to hide he was following them. He didn't care if they knew; he was royally ticked. Anyway they'd drunk too much to notice him following unless he rear-ended his own car.
There seemed to be an energetic discussion in the Beemer, ending with the women high-fiving one another and Randy turning the car and heading into the less respectable section of town.
After parking the Beemer on the street the three went "window shopping" at an X-rated movie triplex. Parking just ahead of the Beemer Darwin watched until the trio made up their minds what movie to watch and Susan stepped up to buy the tickets. Randy wasn't spending a dime on the evening out, his 'good buddy' Darwin was paying for it all. Darwin was even paying for Randy to take his wife into a porn theatre!
Darwin strolled up the street after them and was close enough to hear his wife tell the cashier which movie they wanted tickets to see. To his amazement none of the three noticed him just feet behind them as they headed into the theatre.
Watching Randy's hands going from one woman's bottom to the next in constant rotation Darwin got himself a ticket to the same movie.
Following them into the theatre, he stepped through the curtain at the door of the one showing, "Three men and a Babe!" The theatre was almost empty. Not giving a flying fuck if he was recognized, Darwin pushed through the curtain right after them. Darla even turned to see who was crowding in behind them. But in the dark theater with Darwin standing between her and the light he was just a shape and she didn't recognize her friends husband.
It was all Darwin could do to keep from cold-cocking the bastard Randy and turning each of the two women over his knee. If it would have remedied anything he would have done it. Instead he kept swallowing to keep his gorge from rising and stood watching the three ahead of him.
The trio stood looking over the nearly empty theater uncertain where to sit until Randy lifted each woman's skirt and goosed them. Stopping at a row of seats about half way down he pushed Susan in to sidle ahead of him. The asshole had his hand underneath Susan's skirt playing with her ass. Randy pulled his wife after him, his hand holding a handful of her bottom under her short skirt. They stopped in the middle of the row and sat down, a woman on either side of Randy.
Darwin slid into the row behind the trio, sitting right behind Randy. The three snuggled in, the girls crowding over to the seat Randy was in, laying their heads on his shoulders. The son of a bitch wasted not a moment, nor did he make any attempt to disguise his actions. Before they were well seated he had both Susan's and Darla's skirts rucked up to their waists and a hand inside each pair of panties.
On the screen a hard, brassy blonde was knocking on the door to an apartment. While she waited at the door she adjusted her bra, obviously playing with her oversized, man made tits and letting the audience see each tit in turn. Then she pulled up her skirt to adjust her garter belt.
Sitting behind Susan and her friends Darwin was flabbergasted to see Susan had put her purse down on the seat next to her. He leaned forward and picked it up. Getting more upset and angry by the moment, Darwin sat back and watched the actions of the three in front of him, tuning out the porno film on the screen.
Randy had a difficult but pleasant chore. He had to work each woman's panties down off her legs with no assistance from the women. Well, there was no resistance, either. As Darwin watched over his shoulder Randy inserted a hand down the front of each woman's lacy under garment. Within moments of achieving that goal his hands began to move up and down each crotch. Soon Randy had a finger on each woman's clit. It didn't take any deep thinking on Darwin's part to know this was hardly the first time that hand had been welcomed by his wife. Each minute of watching the bastard's hand in his wife's crotch seemed like an hour. Very soon the women were moaning softly and writhing in their seats. First one, than the other pair of panties was pushed below their owner's knees where they dropped to their ankles.
Randy had leaned forward for that evolution, but when he leaned back his middle fingers began working on each woman's slit simultaneously. Each woman was now leaning back in the seat, her legs wide, her ass pushed forward to the edge of the seat, opening her sex to the bastard diddling them.