Chapter 14

Jean could cry. Mark had left the house without a word to her. She'd wanted so much to discuss Lydia Newell's phone conversation with him, and especially give him the opportunity to say something concerning Annie Purcell that would clarify the auburn-haired girl's malicious intimations. God knows, it wasn't that she'd readily believe such vicious gossip, nor wanted in the least to doubt his fidelity... but not even a word! She'd never seen him so close-mouthed, so guiltily ignoring her!

The lovely, honey-blonde young wife could hardly believe it when he'd slammed the bedroom door between them, his heavy footfalls pounding along the hallway until the outside house-door closed and his patrol car started up! Dear God, what would Carol and Steve think... ? And then she remembered that she didn't have to worry about them, they'd gone out for dinner.

Well, she could be thankful for that, at least. The unexplainable shame of their strained marriage after only two- months would be unbearable! At first, she'd felt certain that his embittered attitude had been because of her uncontrollable, wanton orgy with Caesar, but after listening to Lydia Newell and the way he had stormed out on her, she was no longer so sure. Even so, and regardless of what he'd done, didn't he realize that she would forgive him? God, she loved him so much... but... but she loved her Caesar, too... !

Confused and nearly in tears, Jean dressed. She hardly knew what Lydia Newell expected of her, forgetting whether she'd been invited to dinner or not. Mark's actions had upset her so. Nevertheless, she had to go... had to know more no matter how horrible it would be... and she dressed accordingly, the striking Lydia Newell's emphatic statement constantly repeating itself in her mind: "It's time you learned a few things about your handsome husband, Jean darling... and don't tell a soul that you're coming here... !"

What else could she do but agree? Nor had she broken her word. Though she couldn't quite understand the insistence for such sworn secrecy, Lydia's emphasis of it had, and was, almost clamily intriguing her. What more could the wealthy girl add to what she'd already implied that demanded such a furtive meeting? God... had she made some horrible mistake in marrying Mark... and even if she had, what could she do? She loved him so much... so much... !

After she'd securely concealed Link Morgan in his strategic spot in her bedroom clothes-closet, taken a long look at the harmless appearing little sugar-cube on the serving tray, Lydia Newell entered the luxuriously furnished front-room of their ranch house with an almost evil, lust-tugging smile playing about her sensual mouth. It had occurred to her that Jean Blakely did... actually did! The voluptuous blonde delight closely resembled her ex-roommate at college... resembled her to a striking T! And what erotic hours they had spent together! Of course, Ann had been made-to-order lesbian material from her parental situation, but who was to say this gorgeous creature was any different? God, wouldn't that be an unexpected pleasure though! Actually, the tiniest leanings would be enough, regardless of whether she knowingly, or unknowingly, acknowledged them; the acid, with proper suggestiveness, would quickly bring them to the surface! Damn, it'd been a long time since she'd enjoyed those intoxicating games, hadn't it? The idea was more than slightly invigorating, especially with it producing all the desired results she vindictively sought. One way or the other, she was going to have her "pound of flesh" this night!

The curvaceously shaped, auburn-haired girl in her braless, slack ensemble, was in the act of mixing herself a drink when the front bell rang. She smiled, placing the ice-cube filled glass onto the small bar and walked toward the door, enjoyably performing the task of the servants she had dismissed for the evening.

"Well... hello, Jean... please come in?" she warmly greeted the enthralling, shoulder-length, blonde-haired lovely in the black, mini-cocktail dress, her raking green-eyes immediately dropping from the revealing cleavage of smoothly firmed, white full breasts to the dark nylon-encased beauty of perfectly rounded, lush thighs that tapered downward toward exotic calves and enviable ankles. "I didn't expect that you'd dress so... so enchantingly, Dear. You look absolutely stunning!"

"W-Well... thank you," Jean, with widening eyes, replied, surprised at the other's generous compliments. "I wasn't sure whether you had mentioned dinner or..."

"Come in and have a drink, Darling," Lydia expertly trimmed her partially asked question short, catching her arm with feminine gentleness and leading her into the vast livingroom toward a couch. "Here... sit down, Honey. This is my favorite nook... more intimate than the rest, I think. What will you have?"

"Oh... oh, anything..." Jean answered, carefully seating herself so that her knees were chastely touching, her revealed legs and outer thighs demurely at an angle. She watched the gracefully striking young woman glide away to the corner-bar. It was difficult for her to believe that only hours before, her hostess had almost knifingly insisted that this secret tete-a-tete be held. Appraisingly, Jean let her smoke-blue eyes brush over the other's appealing curves, noting the masculine broadness of shoulder and narrow waist. But the full, voluptuous contours of her rounded hips and buttocks in their silverish, tight-fitting slacks, belied any male influence. And her ovaled, full sweeping breasts, obviously unhampered by a bra according to their nipple- embossed flow of movement, were those of a girl who would look as well without, as with brazziere... and that was a rarity.

"I prefer martinis this time of evening," Lydia was saying without glancing back at her. "And seeing you have no preference... An olive, or lemon twist?"

"Fine... either," Jean automatically responded, hardly knowing what she was saying as she tried to reason the meaning behind it all. Nothing was happening as she had anticipated.

"I know you're quite up-tight about our phone-conversation," Lydia said in a calculatedly disarming tone as she gracefully returned to the couch with their drinks, smiling and handing one to Jean before she eased downward onto the edge of the cushion. "I think such things are better done on a full stomach, Jean dear... so let's have dinner first, just you and me, then talk." With that, she confidently added an additional lie: "I prepared it myself... orange duck, and not very good, I'm afraid, but at least, private... as this little get-together should be."

Jean sat forward, running her tiny tongue-tip over her lips nervously. "Just... just what is this... this little get- together all about, Lydia?"

Surprising Jean, the stunning aubum-haired girl lightly laughed, then charmingly arose to her feet. "Later, Darling... Now, why don't you give me a hand in the kitchen? There's only the two of us tonight. Would you mind... ?"

Totally overwhelmed by the other's captivating manner, Jean gained her feet and took her drink, as did her hostess, into the elaborate kitchen, readily helping with the dinner they carried to the dining table. Finally, they sat down at an intimate setting, eating scrumptiously, Jean thought, with the proper wines, the light conversation doing nothing but putting her at ease, and making her wonder if any of their intensive exchange on the telephone had ever taken place.

It wasn't until they were back in the livingroom over coffees and cognac, still enjoying a pleasant mood, that she came to know different.

"You'll want sugar, Darling," Lydia said. "It's a very strong expresso."

"All right, one... just one, thank you. Ordinarily, I don't use any," Jean replied with a smile.

The emerald-eyed hostess began to stir with her tiny spoon as did her guest, all of the mentally erotic imaginings Lydia had been patiently guiding them toward about to culminate with her ruthless, lustful plans. She could hardly contain the lewd excitement bubbling within her sensuous young body. In keeping with the evening, she raised the demi-tasse cup and Jean responded, daintily sipping.

"So... at last we come to the reason for our little party, Jean dear," the aubum-haired girl breathed, leaning back against the davenport. "It's always been my belief that when two women have shared a man, each owes a certain honesty to the other regarding him. Don't you think so? I mean, today, Darling, it's become a recognized fact by we girls the necessity of banding together against the male beast, right?" She smiled warmly at her voluptuous companion who was properly balancing her little saucer and tasting from its miniature cup.

To that point, the curvaceous blonde's intrigued blue-eyes had been like innocent gems of concerned purity, Lydia evaluated, their almost virginal expression feeding her licentiously building hunger. You enticing little bitch! Your innocent, almost unfucked look is a bewitching fraud... but it's going to make it all the more delightful... !

She watched the unhidable flicker of apprehension reveal itself in their abrupt, uneased stare, but waited until the intoxicating creature perfunctorily sipped the last drop from her cup. Then, she said:

"I'm sure you must've considered that Mark had a love-life before he met you, Darling?"

"O-Of course... he's not a child," Jean replied, a strange little tremor rippling over her. "But I can't believe that was why you were so insistent that I come here tonight... to discuss my husband's old love-life..."

"Old... ?" Lydia repeated the adjective with a smile. "You sound very much like a naive young wife, Jean. His little affair with Annie Purcell in the old quarry this morning doesn't sound like an 'old' love-life to me. Of course, I have no idea how long that's been going on... !"

"I don't believe it, Lydia!" Jean defended, the bite to her tone automatic.

"Well, that's commendable of you, Darling, but not very smart," Lydia said, her avid green-eyes narrowing. "Suppose I should tell you that I too, have enjoyed his cock since you two have been married? Would you believe that?"

Whether it was what she'd said, or her casual use of the lewd four-letter word, Jean didn't know, but rather than the offended rage she should be feeling, an unexplainable sensation bordering on the erotic had incredibly fluttered through her! Something was not right in her head, but God knows, she couldn't reason what, nor why! The room itself had suddenly taken on intense hues, and the attractive face of the auburn-haired, green-eyed girl beside her seemed to have assumed a wavering, vision-like quality!

"... Yes, Jean darling... you see, I've known Mark a long, long time," Lydia began to confidingly half-whisper, moving closer to the lovely blonde woman beside her. "We used to fuck every day... but as you know by now, Mark's not at his best when he's fucking. I think eating cunt is probably his foremost love-making talent, don't you... or hasn't he ever gotten down between your thighs and licked your pussy?"

Jean could only gape in overwhelming awe at the strikingly beautiful face which seemed to be floating ever closer to her own, its lovely, sparkling lips slowly moving to emit the incessant flow of lewd words and deeds which were causing funny, butterfly- like sensations to increase inside her... !

"... I usually sucked him... I like to suck cocks, always and especially, Mark's!" Lydia excitedly continued. "It's so long and thick, isn't it, Jean dear? If only he could fuck you good with it. I mean, his cock is bigger than most I've had... but maybe you've done better, Darling. Though, for me, swallowing Mark's thick hardness right down into my throat was always heaven! Even his cum tastes different... more masculine and hot than most... don't you agree, Honey... ?"

For a brief instant, Jean was aware of a desperation struggle taking place in the dazing recesses of her brain, the unexpected tirade of lewd verbiage and the obscene meaning behind it inciting a sensuous vacuum at the pit of the young wife's softly rising and falling belly. My God... wh-what was happening to her... ?

"Really, Darling..." Lydia's sultry voice danced around her ears and simultaneously, across the room. "Can you think of anything more fascinating than that freckle on the under-end of our Mark's cock? Can you now... ?"

In aroused confusion, Jean stared at the provocative smile on the vision's enravishing face, her mind uncontrollably picturing the tiny freckle on the under-tip of her husband's penis at Lydia's suggestion! Yes... yes, it was fascinating, she thought, feeling the tiny cup and saucer being removed from her hand, even as she subliminally fought against the lustful sensations that were stealing all control from her!

"... Wouldn't you love to have him fuck you good just once, Jeannie doll?" Lydia wantonly hissed. "I mean, all the way, Darling... his thick cock thrusting into your hot little pussy until you cum like a fountain... wouldn't you Baby?"

"Oooohhh... I... I... ooohhh Goddd!" Jean whimpered.

"Yessss... I understand, Jeannie... you're getting all hot and wet up between your legs," Lydia tauntingly breathed, gently reaching over to brush her small hand along the young wife's nylon-covered, upper thigh. "You know, Darling, when I get this way I say all the dirty words I can think of... like fuck, cunt and cocksuck... ! Go ahead, Baby, say them... it'll make you feel better... ! Go ahead, don't be afraid... ! Cum, shit, cunt... !"

"S-Suck... fuck... cock... cunt, jism! Prick! Asshole!" Jean began, hesitantly, at first, her quivering voice rising in crescendo as the obscene words began to burningly scream in her brain as if crying for release. "Oh, my cunt is on fire! Yes... yes... Mark's big cock inside my pussy-hole... in my mouth... anyplace... !"