Chapter 11

How sure can we be about our eyes and what they actually see? You say you saw something 'with your own eyes.' But do you own your eyes? And will they show you tomorrow what they've shown you today?

As Juliana entered the dining hall, something was different. Not so much the set up. It looked like just another dinner party held at the villa: half-nude women flirting with half-drunk men. It was supposed to be a high-class party: tuxedoed and bejeweled guests sipping bubbles while standing around a damask-clad sparkling table.

Juliana felt slightly tired, having spent the afternoon fucking the man on whose arm she was now making her entrance. He was a real stud in his thirties, tall and dark. The stretched muscles of her vagina and anus reminded her he was generously hung too. She could have done worse. He'd told her not to clean up her pussy while she went off to change for dinner; his spent semen squished in her thong while she walked.

Giggling she pushed her ear into his nose as he nibbled on its lobe. Then she saw Alec Austin, her husband.

He stood at the center of a group of male guests and their female entertainment, wearing a tuxedo. A black kind of bathing cap covered his skull and ears, emphasizing the paleness of his narrow face. His shirt's collar seemed too wide for his neck, while the sleeves of the jacket were too long. He looked like a teenager in the tux of his father. He also looked completely ill at ease. The men talked to him, slapping his back or punching his arm while they burst out laughing. Juliana saw he held a big cigar and a glass of champagne. A blond girl hung on to his arm, flirting with him. He blushed and didn't know where to look. Then he saw her.

Juliana's ankle-long gown looked quite classy, she thought, but the sea green fabric was thin and there wasn't very much of it on top. A rather eye catching feature was the split that opened right from her hip down to her heeled sandals as she walked. It drew extra attention because the man she was with had slid his hand inside it, kneading an ass cheek. She stepped free from his embrace, raising a hand and mumbling "my husband." Then she walked over to where Alec stood, automatically adopting her catwalk gait. The group opened up at her arrival.

"Alec," she whispered. "You're up."

His eyes wandered nervously left and right.

"Juliana! What is going on here?" he asked. "What are you doing here anyway?" He looked her up and down. "Dressed like this and letting that man..."

The girls giggled around them. Juliana saw Melinda move in, her breasts barely held in check by her dress.

"He's a cute swimmer!" she exclaimed, bringing her hand to his cap. "You seem to know him, Julee. Introduce us, please."

Alec shied away from her touch. Juliana wondered why the girl's actions irritated her.

"He's mine, Mel," she said, amazed by her own words. "He's my husband."

Melinda produced a squeal, clapping her hands. It made her tanned tits wobble in their silk cups.

"Goodie!" she cried. "Even better. Can I borrow him, pleasie-please?"

Alec was totally confused now. He leant back to escape the big-boobed porn star, only to bump into another scarcely clad woman. The result was a flurry of giggles and a half-dozen long-nailed hands pushing him around.

"Enough!" Juliana cried. She grabbed Alec by a sleeve and pulled him out of the pink melee.

"Enough indeed!" a male voice echoed.

Dr. Charrier stood by the table his arms folded in front of his barrel chest. He wore a purple smoking jacket; his pink jowls shone.

His voice silenced the girls. Juliana saw the male guests look on with amusement.

"I am ashamed of the way you behave, girls," he said. "Mr. Austin is our guest of honor here. He recovered from serious surgery and this is his night to celebrate that recovery before he goes home with his faithful wife." He unfolded his arms and started a slow applause, slamming his ham-like palms together. The other guests picked up on it and the girls added their woops and squeals.

Alec looked confused, not knowing whether to frown or smile, whether to duck the pats on his back or thank for them. Juliana kept pulling at his arm and he followed her reluctantly.

"What is this place, Jules?" he breathed. "This is not a hospital." She led him to a corner where a wide pillar gave them some privacy.

"So you're better," she said, trying to catch his eyes; they were still focused on the group by the table. The cigar hung broken in the grip of his fingers; the glass was empty. He nodded.

"Yes," he said. "This afternoon Dr. Charrier told me I could leave tomorrow. Why aren't you home? Ah, I guess he invited you too for this ... celebration?"

Juliana hardly heard what he said. She wondered what it all meant. 'Before he goes home with his faithful wife, ' Charrier had said. 'Home, ' 'faithful.' Why hadn't he told her things were over? Were they over? Had she paid her debt? Did he tell Alec what she'd done? Obviously not. She'd been fucking her brains out even while he told Alec about his discharge, this afternoon. And then he sent him to this dinner party where she was on the menu. Guest of honor? She let out a long sigh.

"Yes," she said, forcing a smile on her face. "This is our surprise party. Congratulations, sweet husband." And she stepped forward to embrace him. But before reaching him, a heavy, padded body ran into her back, two arms closing around her, hands pressing her chest.

"Stop the lovey-dovey stuff, guys: dinner is served!" Melinda cried out. "Guest of honor and flat-chested wife are expected to take their places."

A sexy-clad waitress seated Alec at the foot of the table, opposite from the doctor's place at the head. When Juliana wanted to sit down next to her husband, she was whisked away and placed next to Charrier. Melinda took over her chair. A petite redhead she'd met (and licked) at the latex orgy sat down at his other side. Both girls hurried to claim the guest of honor, touching him and flirting relentlessly. He looked like a lost nerd at a high school prom.

Had he always seemed this silly, Juliana wondered, or was it the cap and the oversized suit? Could it be that it was just the way she saw him now? So much had happened; so much had changed. She recalled the time she found her old clothes on the bed – and the embarrassing way they'd looked on her. She tried not to recall the ridiculous sex she and Alec had before she came here. Had she changed so much that even her very eyes had changed?

"Doesn't he look just great?"

It was Dr. Charrier's voice; his big hand rested on hers.

"He looks awful," she whispered. He chuckled.

"Well, considering his surgery..." he responded. She looked up at him.

"Was the rubber cap really necessary?" she asked. "And do his clothes have to be too big?" The doctor laughed.

"Too big? Are they really? Ah well, Mrs. Austin," he said out loud. "Why don't we ask him? Mr. Austin!" Alec looked up as the table got quiet.

"Mr. Austin," the doctor repeated. "Sorry to bother you, but your sweet wife worries about your suit. She thinks it doesn't fit. Would you please stand and show us, so we may check her opinion?"

Alec's eyes went to his outfit; then they flew to Juliana, wide with panic.

"It ... no ... it is quite all right," he stuttered. "No problem."

"No-no-no-no!" Dr. Charrier boomed, rising from his chair. "This won't do. Nothing but the very best is good enough for my guest of honor and his beautiful wife. We can't have you look ridiculous at your own party, just because we failed to provide a good suit. Please rise and show us."

Juliana tugged at the doctor's jacket.

"Please," she whispered. "Let it be; it's all right."

Charrier looked down at her, frowning.

"I'd expect better from you, Mrs. Austin," he said. "I thought you cared for your husband." Some of the girls giggled at that. Juliana felt a deep rage forming – the same frustrated rage she thought she'd lost. At its bottom was an urge that surprised her; an urge to rise, take her husband and leave this place forever.

But all she did say was "please, ' before sagging back into her chair. Nagging at her deepest consciousness was the feeling that she took a wrong and irrefutable turn.

Alec Austin rose, pushing his chair back. It screeched on the stone floor. He stood and closed his jacket.

"Doctor Charrier," he said, "ladies and gentlemen, thank you for saving my life, but I think I'll take my leave. Have a nice meal." Then he turned Juliana's way, searching for her face – waiting.

"Tell him not to leave," Charrier hissed at Juliana. "Now!"

Juliana's head reeled from a cocktail of feelings. She felt shamed and she felt proud at the same time, and in an odd mixture. Alec had shown a backbone. They'd tried to make him look ridiculous, and it had made her pity him, but not now – not now. She'd almost joined the way they ridiculed him, but now it was she who felt silly.

Juliana saw him raise his arm, palm up and open. He waited for her to join him. Juliana pushed back her chair to run to him, but Charrier's hand pressed down on her bare shoulder.

"You do whatever you like, Mr. Austin," he said, stretching his words, "but Mrs. Austin here has her obligations tonight. At least half of these fine gentlemen have been promised a sample of her well-appreciated talents, if you know what I mean." A chuckle ran like a rivulet around the table.

Alec's eyebrows rose. Didn't he know what the doctor meant; or was he just getting a clue?

"Jules?" he said, his inviting hand still out.

"Why, Mrs. Austin," Dr. Charrier boomed, cutting off Alec's voice, "why don't you ask the gentleman next to you what his wishes are?"

Juliana's head was in turmoil. She looked from her husband up to the doctor. Then her eyes turned to her table companion. He was a middle-aged man with a graying moustache. Smiling at her he pointed down with a finger. Juliana followed its direction and found a half-erect penis rising from an open fly.

Looking up to the doctor again, who smiled and nodded, she tried to find her way back to the feelings of pride. It was like struggling through a carwash of huge, rolling balls of cotton, glimpsing the exit before losing it again. Alec's hand begged her to rise; Charrier's eyes forced her to stay.

"She really can't, you know, Mr. Austin," the doctor said, his voice seemingly far away. "And it is all for your benefit. So if you feel the need to watch, you are very welcome." Another rumble of laughter passed.

The bobbing penis was still there, against the black of the man's pants. It seemed to have grown, sparkling with spilling juices. A hand took hers, placing her fingers around the stem – pale against the darker skin. She couldn't withdraw – or maybe she could, but she didn't. Another hand touched her neck and pulled her down. Someone said 'no.' Maybe it was she? Or was it Alec? She tried to look up, but the hand resisted, forcing her deeper down. A humming entered her mind. Her face lowered itself into the warm well of the man's crotch, enclosed by his body and the tablecloth. The purple head with its angry, weeping slit now dominated her view. There were voices all around her, buzzing and rumoring into a general blanket of sound. The sinews of her neck strained one last time against the pushing hand, before, with a sigh, her lips opened and curled around the cock's head.

The man didn't last long. Juliana felt the telltale swelling before his hot sperm splashed against the back of her throat. She drank it down in three swallows and cleaned the penis before looking up. Applause rained down on her. Alec had gone.

Juliana jumped up. She almost stumbled as she pushed away her chair and started running down the room on her break-neck heels. She cried out Alec's name when she reached the exit. She chose the left turn, in the direction of the clinic. Tears leaked from her eyes as she ran, holding up her gown and calling his name.

At last she met him at the connecting corridor to the clinic. He avoided her and tried to walk past, but she grabbed him and hung on to him.

"We must talk!" she cried out. "I am sorry, but it is really not my fault. Please stop and listen!"

Alec shook her off. He carried a suitcase, a raincoat hanging over his arm.

Juliana slipped on the stone floor; she almost fell.

"Please," she begged. "I did it all for you." Sinking to her knees, she blocked his way. He stood over her, his shadow covering her face.

"You are a filthy, cheating whore," he said. His voice hissed; it also trembled. "And you had to rub my face in it. How many men did you fuck while I was in a coma, helpless and conveniently out of the way?"

Juliana looked up at him. His face was dark, being lit from the back. He still wore the cap, but there was nothing comical about him.

"It wasn't like that," she protested. "It wasn't like that at all." It sounded weak. He was silent for seconds.

"I don't care," he then said. "I saw what I saw." He turned, kicking away her hand when she grabbed his left ankle. The last she saw of him was how he rounded the corner of the main hallway. She broke down crying.

"Tsk, tsk, Mrs. Austin."

The voice mocked her. The stone floor made her shiver in her flimsy gown. Juliana felt utterly abandoned. She looked up at the huge man.

"My God, you look like a raccoon!" Dr. Charrier said. He reached down to pick her up. "You really can't join the table looking like this." She took the offered hand. There was no resistance left in her; not even a thought. Rising on wobbly ankles she saw her dress had a rent down the front that exposed her upper body. She absent-mindedly tried to close it with her free hand.

Charrier took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. It felt warm and smelled of male body and cologne. It also was way too big.

"So he left, the ungrateful bastard," Charrier said, wrapping an arm around her.

Was that what he was, Juliana wondered: ungrateful? Maybe yes. She did it all for him and he couldn't even listen, could he?

"He ... he doesn't know," she said, after clearing her throat. "I couldn't make him see."

"Oh, but you could, Mrs. Austin! You would have explained it all. He just didn't let you," the doctor said. He started leading her down the corridor.

"Come. We still love you; we always will. You need to freshen up and return in time for desserts. Promise?"

Juliana walked next to his bulk, wrapped in his huge jacket and holding on to his arm. She felt immensely tired.

"Please," she murmured. "Please, I'm tired. Let me go to my room and sleep. I really need to be alone."

Charrier stopped. He held her shoulders and peered into her ruined face.

"Ah, but no, Mrs. Austin!" he said, frowning and sounding worried. "Not now, while you're so down. What you need is some exercise. Listen to your doctor, honey, he knows best! Your body needs to work out the stress and I know just the way to do that. Come."

He walked her to her room. There he took his jacket back.

"I asked Mei to look after you. We expect you back at the table in half an hour, Mrs. Austin – fresh and radiant and dying to give us the best of your amazing talents!"

Standing under a steaming shower she felt the drumming water massage the exhaustion out of her muscles, while the heat seemed to permeate her mind. It straightened out the knots and swirls of panic and stress.

So Alec condemned her without listening, did he, calling her a whore. He dumped her just like that after all she'd done for him. Paying off his surgery, saving his life. Of course it must have been a shock for him to see her like that, doing what she did – no, what she had to do ... for him, all for him. Okay, it was a rotten thing for Dr. Charrier to not have prepared him; not have let them talk before...

She shook her body in a shudder, recalling the horror in his eyes. But to drop her like he did, without one question asked ... Leaving her alone ... Pushing her away, just like this...

"You get out, girl! No time. Have to get you back."

The voice of Mei shook her out of her musings. She closed the faucets and stepped into the big open towel.

The waitresses were just taking away the debris of the main course when Juliana re-entered the dining hall. She wore a new outfit, more of a tube-like cocktail dress. It was silvery gray, stretchy tight and stopping right below her crotch. Platform soles allowed her heels an extra inch. It felt like walking on stilts and utterly sluttish. She kept her eyes down. A soft applause rose from the table and she couldn't suppress a blush.

Resuming her place at Charrier's elbow, she looked around the table. Some of the girls had their breasts out; there was kissing and fondling going on. Her neighbor leant over to her.

"Thank you for an amazing treat," he whispered, smiling. "I hope you're well." She nodded and turned her attention to Charrier. He smiled, laying his big hand on hers.

"You look wonderful," he said. "I'm glad you decided to come. Some more wine?" He snapped his fingers and one of the girls filled her glass. She emptied it in one gulp, savoring the tart taste and the slight tingling on her tongue. She nodded for a refill.

"Not too fast," Charrier warned. "The evening is still young." Juliana just nipped.

The party went like the ones before. Soon her top was down too and someone was licking the dessert off her bare nipples. Coffee sweets were sucked and juggled from mouth to mouth. For brandy and cigars they decamped to the big lounge, where half-naked men and naked women soon populated couches and chairs. There was slow dancing, deep kissing, squeals and giggles. Then there was the zipping of zippers, the rustling of clothes and the wet sounds of lips sucking meat, meat pounding pussies and mouths gasping orgasms.