Chapter 5

Gillian had slept fitfully all night. The whole evening had been almost too much. First she had seen those filthy movies, then she had gotten so hot that she had had to fuck her fingers into her cunt in order to stop the fires. She had been relieved when Stephan had decided not to mention the cassettes last night. He could have pressed the point, by waking her up, but he hadn't, and she was glad. It gave her some extra time to get her own feelings together.

Gillian stared at her husband across the breakfast table and it seemed to her that he had changed somehow, in some almost imperceptible way, almost overnight; there seemed to be a firmer set to his jaw, as if with some hidden purpose, and his eyes held a new, oddly flashing light that she had never seen in them before. He didn't speak, only held his paper up to his face with a shaking hand and sipped his coffee with loud slurps.

She wanted to rid her soul of the deep burden weighing her down, but why? What purpose would it serve at eight o'clock in the morning? Instead she picked at her eggs and sipped her coffee daintily. It's all because of that damned instant movie camera! she repeated to herself.

Sitting there with her tormented thoughts, she had the odd sinking feeling that her perfect, well-ordered little world was about to come crashing down around her ears. Everything was too strange, too unreal--as if it were the proverbial calm before the storm. She hoped that she was wrong, that it was simply her guilt at her actions last night, her finger-fucking herself while looking at those filthy movie films, that was making her feel so morbid and depressed.

Behind his newspaper, Stephan Edwards smiled lewdly to himself. So she did see those films after all, he thought with a clear head. That's why she's acting so strange this morning. She's feeling guilty because she enjoyed them. Tonight we'll take care of it all, we'll clear the air. He peeked over the top of his newspaper and studied his wife--his beautiful, passionate, warm Gillian. He moistened his lips. She was better than that young whore, Kitty, any day of the week. Or she would be, once she learned the art of sucking and being sucked. And she would learn--soon, soon. Tonight, maybe. Stephan's cock gave an excited little dance in his robe as he thought of what would happen when he got Gillian warmed to the idea.

Could he talk her into more movie-taking? Well, not in the mood she was in now. But if he could get her a little high-- downright drunk would be even better--he could convince her that it would be all right to take more movie films. And that would surely get her pussy hot, for even though she hadn't been outwardly excited by the movies he had left in his study, she had to have had enough curiosity to open that envelope and see what was inside. That meant she had to possess, he reasoned, curiosity about other things as well, like sucking his cock and letting him suck her pussy. Hers was an untapped resource, just waiting for the drilling to begin. She loved him and wanted to please him, hadn't she told him that often enough? Yes, tonight would be the night, after all!

He sipped at his coffee again and continued to think of what erotic things he would talk his lovely wife into doing with him, how he would show her that she was excited by the sight of naked men and women fucking.

Determined to affect a calm exterior, not to show the turmoiled nature of her inner self, Gillian decided to break the silence. "More coffee, Stephan?"

"Huh?" He set down his paper, happy to see her regaining her shattered self-confidence. And then: "What time is it?"

"Nearly eight-thirty!"

The newspaper fell to the floor. "Jesus Christ! I have to get going. Have a meeting with Chuck today over that new client we're trying to get. Could be a damned good client, too."

Three minutes intermission and he was running out the door, tie and cuff links in hand.

Gillian's day was spent puttering around the garden, pulling weeds and clipping the hedges.

She didn't feel calm with her own company, but she feigned a happy mask. That way it was easier to pretend that everything was all right. But the image of those lewd movies haunted her with a vengeance all their own.

Why do I feel so guilty? she interrogated herself. Am I not pleasing Stephan? Do I feel as if I'm holding something out on him? Why? Why? Why? her mind screamed. She sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and decided she would not move until this enigma was solved and her happy marriage was once more off the rocks and onto the solid ground. Is there something he wants of me that I feel I cannot give him?

I'm faithful to him; I let him fuck me whenever he wants; I please him... but those words, "suck me, suck my cock," echoed in her head and something struck. Her mind refused to reason any further and she felt a chill tingle up her spine like a worm squirming under her clothing.

She swallowed hard, grimacing. There are things that need to be worked out, she reassured herself. From now on I'll try, God knows, I'll really try to please him... in every way possible. I'll even consent to letting him take those nasty movies of me if he wants. Anything to get things back on their normal keel.

She remembered the coolness with which Stephan had ignored her that morning. Unusual. More than unusual, there was a reason for it, and if her guess was worth a dime it was all because of something that had happened the night before over at Frank's studio. And if she knew Frank at all, she knew what it was. Frank had been filming one of his dirty movies, and Stephan had been there watching!

That evening Gillian met her husband at the front door, a drink in her hand. She had taken special care today to appear extra-provocative, having spent an hour hemming her blue silk dress with the slit up the side, one of Stephan's favorites that he allowed her to wear only in the privacy of their house. "Jesus Christ!" he'd said when she'd put it on for the first time for a party. "Every one of my friends is going to be pawin' at your ass!"

She felt especially sexy tonight, having spent some time manicuring her nails and artfully applying her makeup.

Stephan whistled through his teeth the moment his eyes fell on her. "Look at this!" he said, charmed. "What a lucky man I am!"

She lifted her bead to accept his kiss. "Special dinner tonight: Pate de fois gras, Canard L'Orange, Potatoes Dauphine... and a special dessert," she said flirtatiously. "Come, let's eat and get it over with."

This is too much, thought Stephan as he wiped his mouth clean with a white linen napkin. She's up to something and so am I, and I just hope we meet somewhere in the middle.

"Stephan," purred Gillian, licking her lips, "this wine is absolutely superb. I'm glad you picked it up on your way home. I could drink it all day and still love the taste." She drained her fresh glass and extended it to Stephan to be filled again, smiling, feeling already a little tight and missing completely the dark intensity of his eyes, the way he began to slur his own words. They drained the first bottle and were well into the second.

As planned, Stephan had gotten Gillian drunk, and she had loosened up considerably, even to the point of smiling and tacitly talking about the movies he'd taken of her. She was warm and cuddly now, sitting next to him on the couch, in an obvious loving and permissive mood; it wouldn't take much to convince her of the rightness of allowing him to take more intimate movies of her with the instant movie camera he'd borrowed from his brother.

"Mmmm, I think I drank too much."

"Naw."

She sipped tentatively, smiled at him; she felt secure and warm inside, confessing that she'd been upset and everything had seemed to be drawing in on her at the same time, crushing her under its weight. Now, the liquor removing that worry, she wasn't sure as she had been that things were going to go wrong in their perfect marriage. Again she reminded herself that Stephan still loved her--there was no doubt of that in her mind at all. What then, could be terrible enough to override that abiding love?

Still, though, there was one thing she wanted to know. And with a boldness that surprised both of them, she turned to her husband and asked, "Stephan, did you leave those films in your study for me to find?"

"All right, if you must know--yes, I did."

She drank again, emptying her glass, and when she put it down on the coffee table she felt a terrible rise of guilt once more. And with it came the need to unburden herself, to tell Stephan she had looked at those movies last night--but not that she had fingered her pussy until she had made herself cum while looking at them, never that.

"Oh, Stephan," she blurted out, unable to hold it back any longer. "I opened that envelope in your study last night. That's why I was so upset this morning, because I opened it and put those terrible movies in the viewer, and I... I was excited by them. Stephan, I actually got turned on looking at those dirty films!"

She flung herself against his chest, and Stephan held her tightly to him. He could scarcely conceal his elation. So she had seen them! Good.

"No reason to feel bad, baby," he soothed, kissing her hair. "There's nothing wrong in wanting to be fucked after looking at other people screwing; it's a natural."

"But the... the people in those photos were doing such... such awful things to one another..."

"There's nothing awful about giving pleasure to your husband or wife," said Stephan wisely, tenderly. "It's the whole foundation of marriage, honey. If it pleases the one you love, then it can't be wrong. You believe that, don't you?"

"I... I guess so."

"If, for example, I was pleased taking movies of you in the nude, you'd want to do that for me, wouldn't you? You'd want to take off your clothes and let me film you, wouldn't you?"

"But... but you wouldn't ask me to take off my..." she stopped short. "Stephan!"

"Come on, honey, I like to look at you when you're naked. It pleases me, it excites me. I like to look at you in photographs or film, look at you there in full color, any man would."

"You really think so?"

"It's true," Stephan said, feeling pressure building in his loins as he spoke, knowing that he would win in the end. "I like to look at you in the nude, and I'd be a liar if I said I didn't like to look at other women in the nude, too. Not to touch or anything," he added quickly. "Just to look at and get excited by, that's all. And you're not any different than I am, not really; you're just like other women in that respect. You got excited looking at those films of other couples screwing--and I did, too. When I saw them, I got so excited I thought I was going to cum right on the spot. But it wasn't them I was thinking of fucking, Gillian. It was you, you, my own darling wife. Looking at those pictures of other people doing it made me want you even more than I ever did before!"

Gillian could hardly believe her ears, hearing her husband's confession. He had felt the same as she had last night, as hundreds of other people did every day, if what he said was true. If he was right, then she shouldn't have any guilt at all with her own husband. If only her brain wasn't spinning and spinning.

"I'll prove it to you, sweetheart," Stephan was saying in his mellifluous voice. "I have some more films that a friend of Frank's gave to me. I put them away somewhere. We'll look at them together and what will happen is that we'll both become very excited. You'll want me more than you would otherwise, and I'll want you the same way."

"No, we can't!"

"There's nothing wrong with it, Gillian. I've told you that. You don't trust me, do you?"

"Of course I do."

"Then prove it."

"Stephan..."

But he was already headed for his study for the same movie films that had excited his wife the night before plus a few more. He came back into the room with an armful of film cassettes and the viewer. She watched him as he set the whole thing up on the coffee table in front of her. Then he sat down beside her. She laid her head on his shoulder, half-afraid of what was going to happen. "Watch," he said, holding them and pulling her head away from his shoulder to snap the movie into the viewer. "Here look at them with me."

Gillian didn't want to look. She was trembling and she didn't want to look, she kept telling herself that--and yet her head turned and her eyes focused on the viewing screen and a small cry burst from her lips.

"My Gawd!" she cried.

"Look at it, Gillian darling. It's exciting, look at it, look at it... !" His voice droned on, mesmerically, and Gillian found herself staring at the screen, staring at the young eighteen-year-oldish, fresh-scrubbed-looking couple performing a sixty-nine--the girl's moistened lips locked tightly around the boy's hardened lust-swollen cock, the boy's lips pressed firmly, tongue extended, to her glistening pink cunt.

A low moan of commingled desire and perplexity burst from the young wife's throat, and she felt the soft, warm area between her tightly pressed thighs flower wide with the building juices of her arousal. Beneath the knit dress her nipples hardened into turgid buds, the way they had hardened the night before. She couldn't seem to take her eyes away from the screen, and her breath began to become labored and shallow.

"You like to look at movies like these, don't you, darling?" Stephan's voice droned. "You like to watch her sucking his cock?"

"Yes," she heard herself reply in a half-whisper, unable to control the mounting flood of passion which threatened to consume her in fiery lust. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Quickly, Stephan placed another cartridge into the viewer. The same couple, the same oral love, a somewhat different position. Gillian could see all of the young man's masculinity, his cum-laden balls, the wide girth of his great cock half-buried in his beautiful young lover's ovalled mouth. She gasped, drawing close to her husband, her hand sliding down involuntarily to rub almost spasmodically along his thigh.

Stephan played the cassettes over and over again. A different couple in each, the positions becoming more bold, more provocative--seemingly impossible; standing, with the girl turned completely upside down, her legs locked around his neck; sitting, the man's head buried far up between wide-spread thighs of the girl, his legs locked around her neck and she supporting him with her hands and arms.

Gillian was breathing heavily with intense arousal now, proof to her panting husband that she was acutely excited by these films of others enjoying sex as he was. "Darling," she purred. "That's enough, that's enough! I want you, Stephan. I want you to fuck me, please, please!"