Chapter 5: The Realization – Part II

“James, about my – event – this evening. I didn’t ask, but I thought that you might drive me. I can always call a ride-share, if you’d rather not. But I thought that you might want to.”

That’s what Georgia asked me, later Saturday morning.

I replied immediately, “Of course I would – I will. You don’t even have to ask.”

She hesitated, like there was something more she had to say, but was trying to work out the best way to say it.

“There’s something else, too.” She paused again, still uncertain about how to say what she was going to say. “James – would you like to stay, and watch ... I don’t mean ‘like to’ like ‘enjoy,’ but more like, do you want to see what I do, what it’s like, with the people ... and everything... ?”

I knew that I would have to face this sometime. I hadn’t thought about it in terms of tonight. But now that Georgia had said it – raised the issue – I knew that this was a “moment of truth” situation. And it’s better to do it sooner rather than later – for both of us.

“Yes. Yes, I think it’s a good idea, that it would be good for me to ... understand ... what it’s like ... what everything’s like, now.”

She kissed me gently on the cheek. “Thank you, James. You could see, I was nervous about saying this, about asking you, but – it’s something we’d have to face eventually. Thank you for being willing to do it. And if you change your mind – you decide that tonight is not the right time, then tell me. We – you can always decide later, when – and if – it’s the right time.”

We spent the afternoon doing a lot of nothing. Georgia phoned the woman who had arranged the “event” for this evening and they worked out some details. She also gathered the things she would need and put them in her small travel case while I caught up on some reading.

We both decided that a nap would be a good idea (a real nap – no shenanigans!). Georgia wanted to be rested for her “performance” this evening. I needed to prepare for what I thought could be a long, and possibly demanding, night – physically and psychologically.

Georgia dressed for the evening – at least for the driving part of the evening − with her usual casual elegance. Beige linen slacks (which clung to the lovely contours of her legs and ass perfectly), a cream-colored silk blouse, medium heels. No accessories, and no hosiery. It was, I realized, an outfit that would allow her to arrive looking tasteful and stylish but would be very easy to change out of “when the time came.”

Okay, do you get the picture – I’m nervous about this.

It was a lovely evening for a drive along the lake. At one point, Georgia asked, “Do you still want to... ?”

This was a question I had been asking myself. And the answer that kept coming back to me: “Yes, I do.”

Other than that, the atmosphere inside the car was amazingly – ordinary. On the outside, it was like two colleagues who were going out on a business call. On the inside, it was a different matter, though. My mind (and, maybe, my stomach) were churning – what would it be like, seeing Georgia – right there, in person, seeing her − okay, seeing Georgia fucking and sucking dogs. I think the real source of my unease was the matter of “other people,” there, watching Georgia – my Georgia – and, maybe, watching me, and watching how I react to ... to the spectacle.

I don’t know what was going through Georgia’s mind. She might have been thinking – mentally preparing for tonight’s performance. Or she might have been worrying about me, and about my reaction to what I was going to see tonight.

Or, maybe, she was just taking the opportunity to enjoy a nice drive along the lake, with me.

We had no trouble finding the address from the instructions the woman had given Georgia over the phone. Also, no trouble finding it because it was huge – a fine, tastefully-designed brick colonial-style house set on an acre or more of prime real estate. Except for its newness – and its size – it would not have looked out of place in Colonial Williamsburg. We parked along the drive with all the other cars, most of them imports and all of them expensive, and walked to the front door.

Georgia had scarcely rung the front doorbell when the door was opened by an attractive and well-dressed woman who greeted us enthusiastically.

“Jane? I’m Elaine – we’re really delighted that you’re going to be with us this evening.”

And then I remembered how in one of the videos the hostess referred to “our guest, Jane.” When we got a moment alone, I asked Georgia about that.

“The very first time, I didn’t want to use my real name, so I said the name of the sexiest woman I could think of.”

That explains that. I couldn’t fault her reasoning.

“And this must be your friend! I’m Elaine. When Jane said that you might be with her, I told her that you would absolutely be welcome. We’ll try to make sure you enjoy the evening.”

With Elaine’s cordial welcome, a lot of the unease I’d been feeling disappeared. Georgia sensed it, too. She smiled at me and gave my hand a quick squeeze. Elaine caught this, and she smiled, too.

She showed us where things were and asked if we wanted to “freshen up” after our drive (we did). Then she escorted us to a large room on the lower level where a number of people were already drinking, talking, and generally enjoying each other. It looked like any other informal get-together – at least, any other get-together in a neighborhood like this one.

She showed “Jane” to a spacious powder room that she could use as her dressing- and bathroom, and then led me to one corner of the room and invited me to sit on the sofa there. She left for a moment and then came back holding two glasses of wine – a red and a white (I took the white) – and told me that she’d be back after she had greeted all her “other” guests – implicitly making me one of her guests, too.

In most respects, things were similar to one of the videos Georgia had sent, the last one, in the more “upscale” setting, The room was large, the furnishings looked like they had been selected by a professional decorator, and a corner of the room appeared to be arranged as a “performance area.” And like the people in that last video, Elaine’s guests all looked well-cared-for and prosperous – not surprising, given the neighborhood.

And like the videos, the guests seemed to wander off, then re-appear in robes, dressing gowns, and even a few sarongs.

And that’s when Elaine re-appeared. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.” She handed me some sort of folded-up garment. “Jane thought you might be more comfortable if you wore this.

I took the folded garment and let it fall open, to see that it was a long, very elegant, certainly very expensive, silk dressing gown. In the subdued lighting, I could see that it was a very dark blue, maybe what you’d call midnight blue, although as a guy, I know nothing about colors.

“There another powder room around the corner where you can change. There’s a small closet in there where you can hang your things.”

I thanked her and walked in the direction she’d pointed to the “powder room.” I took off my street clothes and put them in the closet she mentioned. That did leave me with the decision about whether I should keep my briefs on. I didn’t want to be presumptuous by going “commando” if everyone else retained something for modesty. On the other hand, I didn’t want to be rude or boorish by being excessively modest.

I decided that I would leave my briefs on. They were a Euro-style something that Lauren had brought back from Rome, black, low-cut but not quite bikini style, and with mesh side panels. Also, they were cut in a way that made my “package” look considerable – at least, to my mind.

I went back out and found Elaine standing by the sofa talking with a few other people. When she saw me, she smiled and gestured for me to come join them. Like everyone else – including, now, me – she had changed out of the clothes she’d been wearing when she greeted us and was now wearing a gown, crimson, or perhaps darker, held loosely closed by a matching sash.

“This is Jane’s friend, James.” I guess they already know who “Jane” is. “James, this is Harold,” she said, introducing me to a good-looking late middle-aged man who, incongruously – at least to me – was wearing gold wire-rimmed glasses, “ ... and this is his wife, Jasmine.” Jasmine was a stunningly beautiful, petite Asian woman – Chinese, or perhaps “Eurasian” − with tan skin and a knockout body on her five-foot-two frame. Also, she was perhaps 20 years younger than Harold (although it’s so hard to tell with Asians, and especially Asian women). I immediately thought “trophy wife.”

I greeted both, shaking hands with Harold, and Elaine went on, “Jasmine is our special guest tonight – today is her birthday, and this party is Harold’s birthday gift to her.”

This left me speechless for a moment. Throwing an animal sex show would not have been my first thought for a birthday party for my wife, but – not my wife, so not my call.”

Then Elaine said, “I think it’s time to get your party started. You two, come with me to the place of honor, and I’ll introduce our guest performer for the evening. Then I’ll come back and join you, James.”

She turned and led Jasmine and Harold to a sofa that was right in front of what I thought was the “performance area,” where they’d have an excellent view of the show. Of Georgia.

Then she walked to the center of the room and welcomed everyone and introduced “our very special guest for this evening, the birthday girl herself – Jasmine.” Jasmine stood up and turned and acknowledged the applause – genuine, it seemed – and then sat down again on the couch and, in a charmingly shy gesture, buried her face in her husband’s arm before turning again and waving to her applauding friends.

“And now, please, let’s begin Jasmine’s birthday celebration by welcoming Jane, She’s come all the way from Texas to be with us this evening!” Because she’d been so gracious and welcoming, I was afraid that she might also welcome “Jane’s friend,” but she didn’t – to my great relief.

Elaine went to a row of switches and knobs on the wall and adjusted the lighting, brightening the lights over the “stage” and dimming the rest of the room.

And Georgia walked out. I actually caught my breath. She was “dressed,” if that’s what you could call it, in the lavender garter belt and matching lavender hose she’d been wearing in the very first video I’d viewed, along with a pair of black heels, maybe an inch or so higher than she usually wears when she goes out on the town. And, as in several of the videos, she had a gold chain around her waist, only this chain was very fine, not like the chunky one she’d worn in the videos.

And she was stunning. The perfect bobbed ash-blond hair, the gorgeous tits a woman thirty years younger would envy, the trim hips and round ass leading into the slim thighs, and those legs that, despite her being only five-foot-five, seem to go on forever. I almost forgot that she was with me and looked at her like I would look at a beautiful stranger.

Georgia strode out to a round of appreciative applause (what’s not to appreciate!). She smiled and mouthed the words “thank you” to the audience, then moved over to the large mattress-like cushion that was centered on the “stage” and waited as a man (also wearing a robe) walked into the room leading a young boxer dog on a leash.

The dog looked young and sleek, and he tried to bound about playfully. Georgia smiled and held out her hands, and the dog pulled toward the eager, smiling human, probably thinking there might be food, or if there wasn’t any food, at least some good scratches in it for him.

Georgia got on her knees and scratched the dog’s head and his chest and behind his ears and nuzzled him, which got her a good face-licking from the happy dog. She laughed and wiped some of the dog saliva off her face. Then, in a playful act of “turnabout’s fair play,” Georgia reached between her legs, and gracefully but thoroughly, got a good coating of juices on her fingers and smeared them on the boxer’s muzzle. He seemed to like this game.

The man held the dog back and spoke quietly to him, settling the dog and getting him into a “sit.” This might have been some kind of signal to the dog that the game was now changing, from “lick the human’s face” to, perhaps, doing other things with the female human.

Without moving away, Georgia leaned back on some cushions and spread her legs, and the man led the boxer up to Georgia. Either through instinct or experience, the dog knew what to do. He put his nose in between her thighs, licking them a little, then worked his head up so his muzzle was right against her bare pussy.

And that’s when I thought I noticed something unusual. Georgia’s pussy lips, both the outer folds and the delicate inner lips – which I have had occasion to examine in great detail under all lighting conditions – looked darker, redder – almost angry. Then I glanced at her tits. The perky, erect tips also looked darker, more vivid, than I recalled. Had Georgia applied some rouge or other makeup to highlight her sex bits – to make them look more aroused and “sexual”? I wondered if she had done the same thing to her anus. I’d have to remember to look.

So this is what it’s like, watching Georgia, live, in person, allowing an animal to explore her sexual areas. And I thought about it. It wasn’t disgusting, as a lot of people might think. Matt and I learned this at that club in Kiev, as we watched our own beautiful, precious daughters try to humiliate themselves on that donkey’s cock. In fact, as I learned watching the videos that Georgia sent me, it is exciting, plain and simple. This woman, who to me is the epitome of elegance, beauty, class, and mature sexuality, was getting pleasure from having sex with a dog, and from having other people – complete strangers, even – watch her debase herself in this way.

And it was getting me hard.

In fact, I was so entranced by Georgia’s actions that I almost didn’t notice when Elaine, now in her crimson dressing gown, came up beside me. “She’s very beautiful, isn’t she? We got in touch when my friend Alyce – she used to be our neighbor – told me about this amazing woman, and said she’s beautiful and – ‘totally elegant,’ I think is the way Alyce put it. And I just knew that we had to have her for Jasmine’s party. How is it that you and Jane know each other?”