Valerie and Ted:
You know who you are. Thanks for some wonderful memories
Valerie Marie Stephenson was scared shitless. She was scared, but it was in a tingly way; paralyzed with fear, but also feeling tingles of curiosity. She was sitting next to her husband, but she was too nervous to really have his words register.
"It's a nice place. I think you will like it. Remember; you don't have to do anything you don't want to. We are just going to go in and see what this place is like. If you don't like it, we can leave." He didn't really have the courage to look at her, and let the appearance of concentrating on his driving appear to be the reason he was not looking at her.
"I love you hon; and I just want you to have a good time. You look outstanding." He said. It was the truth. She looked spectacular, but he was trying to take her mind off of her nervousness.
Valerie's husband, Ted, had brought up the subject slowly; and over a period of years. It had come out as playful pillow talk that she had initially dismissed. It had first emerged after many years of marriage. They had done the traditional things over the years. They had had sex in all of the different rooms of their nice house. They had done it in the dark. He had taken her while she was on the phone. She had been laying on the floor, talking to her sister. She had been wearing only a tee-shirt. He had rolled her over on her back and drug her out onto the screened back porch. It was dark. He had pulled her shirt up and started in; slowly licking her along her slit. He had a bright idea.
He went into the bathroom and came out with an electric razor, small set of scissors and shaving cream. Using the scissors, he clipped her pubic hair as close as he could. Then with the electric razor, he shaved her down to almost nothing. Then with the shaving crème and safety razor, he smoothed her like a baby's butt.
She tried to talk to her sister as though nothing had happened. Slowly, his tongue got the better of her. He licked her until her voice began to crack and her breathing became labored. She could barely talk when she finally hung up. Her husband enjoyed teasing her that way. He was a good twenty years older than her. In order to keep his interest; to get it up, he had to come up with more and more different ideas of things to do. The ordinary things a teenager might find exciting had already been done a thousand times. That is why over the years, Ted began to slowly expand his fantasies to his wife.
What began as faint thoughts of excitement and pie-in-the sky erotic thoughts were beginning to become a string of growing obsessions. Down deep, he was curious how men saw her. He began to fantasize about men being obsessed with her. He began coaxing her into wearing slightly more provocative clothes. He baited her into wearing shorter dresses and watched her go to try on shoes. He delighted in watching her embarrassment in trying to keep her dress down as her feet were guided into the new shoes.
He kept buying her shorter dresses when they went out. At first she had almost refused. Now, so many other young girls wore such outrageously short dresses, perhaps it wasn't so embarrassing after all. She still, at the age of forty, had spectacular legs; hips the width of a young boy, and breasts of a young girl. They were grapefruit sized, un-sagging and pointing straight out.
He had tried to coerce her into going out in public without a bra or panties. She had refused. Eventually they reached a compromise. She would dress that way to please him; at night. They would go up to "Quality Hill," at night and park there with the top of the car down. At first she refused to leave the car. Eventually he talked her into going for a walk; hand in hand along the sidewalk. The other couples were so engrossed with each other, they barely noticed the older couple.
Valerie put up with it. She had a sense from seeing talk shows and reading articles that her husband was older and needed additional stimulation to "get it up." Reluctantly she put up with it, hoping he would get over it. To her anguish, it seemed to be getting worse.
His distant fantasies had gone from coercing her into revealing outfits, to discussions of possible encounters with other men. It went from "What if ... to would you ... to why don't we..." It was going from fantasy to a possible reality.
When he was discussing remote fantasies, she had reluctantly gone from shock to grudgingly trying to humor him. At some point; she didn't know quite when, he had begun laying out scenarios that were no longer fantasy.
They were now in the car on a Friday night. The top was down, she was sitting in the passenger seat; wondering; "How the fuck did I get into this situation?" She was trying to slump down in the seat. She was wearing a button front dress that came down to mid-thigh if she was standing. In the car, it rose almost to her crotch. The last button just above the hem had been cut off by her husband before he gave it to her. The top was unbuttoned almost to the bottom of her breasts.
The high heels of her almost knee high boots brought her knees almost up to the bottom of the sill of the black lotus they were in. Her long reddish brown hair had been braided into a French braid and bobbed up and down as the wind lifted it. Her nervous hands played with the double strand of pearls wound around her neck and hung almost to her navel.
She was nervous, but tried not to show it. "Are you sure this place is okay, hon?" she asked nervously. "I heard that it can get a little rowdy this time of night. The Chiefs have finished spring training and the first game is not for a week or so. The players are pretty arrogant and lots of them get in fights with the local clientele over the young girls that come in. I don't know that we will fit in with this younger crowd." She said as she played with the pearls and the end of her braid.
"Val, honey, you look spectacular. You have nothing to worry about. I never said you have to do anything. We are just here to get away from the house for a while. Of course, if you see anybody that interests you; who knows?" he said, not really comfortable with looking at her.
"I know; I know. You keep saying that, but I know what you want me to do." She said nervously. They had been through this the last six or eight weekends. Ted had taken her to different bars and dropped her off ... He had gone to Borders and read a magazine until they had closed. Then he would go to the bar and sit at the counter, as far from her as possible to see how she was doing. Usually some squeaky looking geek with dark rimmed glasses and a pencil protector was sitting next to her with a pen protector in his shirt pocked showing her bar tricks.
That was fine with Val. She knew her husband's fantasy was to have her fuck a big black stud that was hung like a horse. If the night kept on the way it had gone previously, she would get home unscathed; again. "Everybody wants to fucking look, but none of these creeps is willing to step up." She thought; thankfully spotting her husband as he came through the front door. He stood for a while, scanning the room. When he spotted her relieved expression, he walked over and kissed her softly. "No action tonight?" he whispered.
Valerie was relieved at the outcome. "Nothing tonight, hon." She said as she smiled feebly at him. She was relieved for the most part, but deep down inside, there was a small spot of disappointment at the outcome. She didn't want to fuck anybody, on the other hand, she missed that look she was used to seeing; that look of hunger in men's eyes. She despised and yet missed it. It wasn't a conscious thought. She didn't miss the struggle and awkwardness of turning men down. She missed the attention; the idea that she was the center of attention. She followed her husband to an open booth at the side of the dining room.
"I guess I'm losing my touch, honey." She said as she slid into the booth opposite her husband. "You aren't losing your touch, babe; there are just a bunch of dorks here. We'll try again next week somewhere else." He said, trying to mask his disappointment. "Do you want to go home, or get another drink? I think they are going to have Karaoke in a few minutes."
"I'm open to anything. I'm with you." Val said; somewhat relieved that he was not going to continue the hunt by exploring another bar. They talked for a while; neither had their mind on the upcoming Karaoke event. Each had their own private thoughts of disappointment or relief over the events so far.
About that time, Ted tried not to telegraph any surprise as he looked up at the entrance. He had recognized the man as he came in. It was Marcel Cain, one of the Chiefs tight ends. He was about 6'-8" tall and about 280 pounds with not an ounce of fat on him. He had a short Mohawk of sorts. The sides of his head were shaved. The hair along the top of his head was braided down the back of his head. It had been a sort of dare to the defensive players to try to use it to catch him. He more or less dared them to grab the thing to stop him. He had had a long playing career and was probably in his last few seasons of professional ball.
"Come over here, babe." Ted said to his wife. Valerie stood and moved over to his side of the booth. "I want you to go over and sign up for the Karaoke thing. There is a guy sitting right next to the Disk Jockey. When you sign up, ask him if he has any favorite song he wants to hear. If he gives you one you know, tell him he will have to buy you a drink for doing it.
.... There is more of this story ...