Chapter 3

Kirk Young adjusted his tie and smoothed a hand along the side of his carefully combed red hair, both gestures for the twentieth time since he and Vicki had left their small bungalow to drive to the Kaye's Glenview Hills home shortly before nine that night. He felt nervous excitement at the prospect of this evening with the eminent faculty member. He had come into close contact with Dr. Kaye only once, briefly, when he had picked Vicki up at work one night, and had been impressed by the man's bearing; one of these days, and in the not too distant future, he would have that kind of stature--both physical and professional.

Kirk looked at the lovely, raven-haired figure of his young wife as they prepared to traverse the ribbon of concrete leading to the Kaye's expansive home. She wore a simple black shift which clung to her full, ripened breasts and perfectly rounded buttocks; it ended just above her knees--not too long, not too short; it accentuated the long litheness of her beautiful legs. She had her hair down tonight, as he liked her to wear it, strands of the long dark tresses curling around to frame her face and rest on the upswell of her lush young bosom. She was a vision in radiant beauty, Kirk thought. Yet, there was something troubling her he could see it reflected in her soft, dark-brown eyes!

The young husband had sensed her inner unrest the moment he had come home from the basketball tournament a little past six. She had seemed withdrawn, ashamed about something. When he had asked her if anything was wrong, she had told him it was nothing at all and averted her eyes. He couldn't for the life of him figure out what could have upset her that way she wasn't normally given to moods and periods of depression; but then, one never knew what it was that was bothering women most of the time, anyway. Probably some inconsequential matter that would, if she relented to explain, seem patently silly as a basis for such anguish.

He had thought for awhile after he'd come home that she was going to remain moody and uncommunicative, but she had responded to his joking, light banter and seemed to snap out of it somewhat. She was smiling now as they approached the huge, multi-level home, but he could still discern that indefinite troubled air about her. Well, at least she wasn't completely undemonstrative; a few drinks, and she'd come out of it once and for all, become giggly the way she always did after the second drink of any kind of liquor.

Kirk whistled softly under his breath as he escorted his voluptuous young wife to the Kaye's door. In the structure's subtly lit alcove, he spotted an ebony black door with polished gold knob and knocker. "Man, this is what is vulgarly known as the creme de la creme," he whispered to Vicki. "We are consorting with members of the upper echelon tonight, sweetheart; our future peers, if I may be so modest."

"You may say so, sir," Vicki said with an effort at a frivolous tone to match that of Kirk's. "It's going to be a fun evening, isn't it, honey?" There was an almost plaintive hunger on that last sentence.

"That it is," Kirk assured her. He put his arm around her shoulder affectionately, then lifted the gold knocker. He let it fall, and the sound echoed like a temple gong in the small alcove.

Almost immediately, the door was opened and the sanding face of Dr. Eric Kaye looked out at them. He wore a gold lounging jacket with a matching silk cravat, knife-creased black slacks, and doeskin loafers; his salt and pepper hair was immaculately combed in a hair-do that obviously had just been barbered. His smile widened as his bright gray eyes roamed approvingly over his female assistant. "You look absolutely the image of Aphrodite tonight, Vicki my dear," he said with genuine enthusiasm. "Positively gorgeous."

The young brunette wife blushed appreciatively. "Why... thank you, Dr. Kaye!"

Eric beamed at her and then turned to Kirk. They shook hands warmly. "Good to see you again, my boy," the suave professor said.

He took Vicki's arm and ushered the two young people inside, shutting the door behind him.

They were in a huge living room furnished in imported Danish modem with tastefully chosen representations on the walls and indirect lighting to accentuate the largeness of the area. There was a large red brick fireplace, with a wide hearth stacked with cordwood and wrought iron fixtures, that comprised more than half of one side wall. At the other end was a large, oiled walnut bar with four stools in dark leather, its surface covered with crystal decanters and glassware containing liquor of every conceivable kind. The entire rear wall was a huge view window with sliding glass doors that opened out onto a balcony that ran the width of the structure. Blue drapes which matched the shag carpeting had been drawn back, and the splendor of Glenview as seen through winter rain was revealed to their eyes. The winking lights of the college community were reflected in the silver droplets beading the glass.

On a long, low couch near the center of the cavernous room sat a strikingly beautiful woman in a shimmering silver lame gown that seemed to Vicki to be scandalously short. She had long, silver-blonde hair and a wide scarlet mouth, and her beauty was loud and sensual where Vicki's was quiet and somewhat virginal. She rose as the Youngs approached with her husband, and smiled with those moist warm lips; the lame dress rustling with husky whispers as she moved, clinging like a second skin to her rich, high breasts and sharply defined, protruding buttocks.

Eric Kaye said, "Kirk and Vicki Young, I'd like you to meet my wife, Christine. Christy, darling, meet Kirk and Vickie."

Christine Kaye rubbed the palms of her hands along her sleek sides as if she was a languorous cat. Vicki thought a little spitefully, I don't like her at all; she acts like she's going to start purring any minute. And look at the hungry expression on Kirk's face... he's captivated by her! The brunette young wife wondered then if she were becoming jealous, and decided that she was; not that she had any cause, of course, it was only natural for men to be attracted to a woman who was so obviously sensual. Don't get your claws out, she cautioned herself; this was to be a fun evening for Kirk's sake... and yes, for my own after the traumatic self-abuse I succumbed to this afternoon.

Vicki said, "How do you do, Mrs. Kaye? I'm very pleased to meet you."

"And I, you," Christy said in a husky contralto. She turned her smoldering black eyes on Kirk and took his hand. "How sweet of you to come tonight," she cooed.

Kirk flushed slightly as her hand seemed to finger in his longer than necessary. "Glad we came," he managed, feeling somewhat at a loss for words for the first time since his teens. This Christy Kaye was probably the most sensually alluring woman he had ever seen outside of a movie theater, and he found himself involuntarily wondering what it would be like to take her to bed. God, she could probably fuck the ass right off of you, he thought, and then blushed again at the lewdness of the idea. No use in harboring a lot of crazy thoughts that weren't going to net him anything anyway.

Still, she was a damned fascinating woman...

Eric Kaye said, "Have a seat beside Christy on the couch. I'll mix drinks. Anyone want anything special?"

"Well," Kirk answered, "a little brandy, if you have it. With soda! And Vicki will have a vodka tonic. Is that all right, honey?"

"Fine," Vicki smiled.

Kaye nodded and said, "Christy?"

"Another champagne cocktail, dear," she breathed.

The smiling professor went to the walnut bar and began to mix the drinks. As he did so, he allowed himself a secretive smile and let his eyes undress Vicki Young; if things went as planned, he thought, this was going to be a night he and Christy--and the Youngs--weren't going to forget for some time to come.

Neither Vicki nor Kirk noticed that he made both of their drinks double-strength.

The evening progressed rapidly, and in spite of her initial dislike for the silver-haired Christy Kaye, Vicki found herself developing a certain camaraderie with the woman. The two men seemed to be getting along famously, and Vicki found Christy to be surprisingly intelligent, a somewhat paradoxical quality in a woman of her sensual physical appearance. Soon they woe talking on topics ranging from a recipe for real Italian veal scaloppini to the damage being wrought by indiscriminate polluting of America's rivers and lakes.

The first drink Dr. Kaye had given her had been a little strong for Vicki's liking, but she hadn't wanted to seem immature or impolite--and so she hadn't said anything. She had drunk it slowly, and when she'd finally finished it, he'd made her another that hadn't seemed too strong at all; probably just her imagination with the first one, she'd mused, and proceeded to drink the second with a bit less caution as she and Christy talked. When she was again finished, Eric Kaye dutifully poured her a third Vodka and tonic.

Although she wasn't really consciously aware of it, the amount of liquor the young brunette wife was consuming began to have a marked effect on her. Gradually, she experienced a physical relaxing of her body; the tenseness evaporated, and she was completely relaxed by then, happy and carefree once in the company of the man she loved and two people with whom she was enjoying herself immensely.

Kirk, too, had noticed the strength of his brandy-soda when Kaye had handed him that first drink, but he had considered it a result of the doctor's flare for being a gracious and liberal host. Besides, he liked his drinks with a little kick in them-- and he could hold his liquor with the best of men when he drank, even though he didn't indulge very often. He felt completely at ease with Dr. Eric Kaye, and as the hour of midnight--and the New Year--drew nigh, he found himself as complacently secure as he had ever been in his life. The older professor could be--he hoped was going to be--a valued and valuable friend, furthering Kirk's career both directly and indirectly; tonight could be the beginning of a long and satisfactory relationship.

Vicki drained the last swallow of her third drink, and her professor boss got to his feet immediately. "Another, my dear?" he asked.

"Well..." Vicki giggled reflexively, and then excused herself and said, "yes--I think I will have another, Dr. Kaye."

"Eric," he insisted. "There's no need for office formality here, Vicki."

"Then--yes, I'd love another drink, Eric."

Christy looked at her watch. "It's eleven-thirty," she said. "Don't you think it's time we opened some of that vintage champagne, baby?"

"Excellent idea," Kaye enthused. "I have it on ice behind the bar."

"Mmmmmm!" Vicki exclaimed. "I adore champagne!"

"Especially imported champagne," Kirk said, grinning.

"This is quite good," Christy told them. "I think you'll like it."

"I'm sure we will," Vicki said, with a soft bubbling laugh. She was beginning to feel slightly giddy, almost light-headed, from the three Vodka tonics she'd consumed over the course of the evening; usually, two drinks were her absolute limit.

Eric Kaye popped the cork on a gold-foil encased magnum he produced from behind the walnut bar and poured four crystal champagne glasses full of the bubbling golden liquid. The two couples drank a toast to one another's health and happiness for the coming year, and the doctor refilled their glasses; another toast to Kirk's success in the field of coaching, and again Kaye poured.

They sipped two more glasses each, talking and laughing, until suddenly Christy announced, "It's two minutes till Midnight!"

Eric hurried to the bar, and from behind it produced some small party hats and four long, wooden favors that unwind like a frog's tongue when someone blows into them. The laughing couples put on the hats as Christy and Vicki began a loud and boisterous countdown by Christy's thin gold watch. Five-four-three-two-one...

"Happy New Year!"

"Happ... happy New Year!"

Vicki seemed to be floating on a pleasant, euphoric cloud, and she realized fully for the first time that she was extremely drunk. It was such a good feeling to be very drunk, she thought; why hadn't she gotten drunk more often if the feeling was this good? She felt strong hands pulling her to her feet, and strong arms encircle her, and she saw the smiling face of her husband before her eyes. She brought her arms up and clung to Kirk's neck as he kissed her, opening her mouth eagerly to accept his tongue. She wantonly rubbed her breasts against his chest, enjoying the feeling of sensuality which the liquor had sent rippling through her body and the embrace of Kirk had magnified; she could feel his penis, pressing against her abdomen, jerk slightly in his pants, and she knew he was aroused by her passionate kiss.

But then a voice said close to her, "How about a kiss for your employer, my dear?" Vicki and Kirk broke apart, and she giggled as she saw Eric affect a mock pout at her ignoring of him; he seemed to be feeling the effects of the evening's liquor consumption as well.

She took a step forward, putting her hands boldly on his shoulders, and said, "Of course, you can have a kiss, Eric!"

He gathered her into his arms, and his mouth closed over hers, lightly at first and then more ardently as she responded to his expert movements. His breath smells sweet and warm. even with the odor of liquor on it, she thought numbly as she kissed him. And he really knows how to kiss... his lips are so soft... oh I feel so wicked, letting my boss kiss me this way with my husband standing right there, but after all it is New Year's Eve and there's no harm that will come of it...

Suddenly, Eric's mouth pressured hers open wide and his tongue slipped along her wetly parted lips, darted inside to meet hers. Vicki felt a tremor of excitement course through her at such familiarity, and instead of being angered or frightened, she was oddly responsive to his invasion of her mouth. She clung to him almost as passionately as she had clung to her husband moments earlier, and allowed his moistly flicking tongue to fill her mouth for a long moment, swirling round and round her own, before she drew back, giggling, to break the embrace...

As soon as his wife had begun kissing Eric Kaye, Kirk had immediately turned toward the voluptuous Christy; what the hell? he thought with the lack of inhibition the champagne and brandy had combined to bring about, there wasn't anything wrong with kissing a beautiful and exciting temptress like Christy Kaye, not if her husband was standing right there kissing his wife, now was there? Besides, he was feeling pretty damned high--maybe he couldn't hold the booze as well as he'd thought, not that it mattered much one way or another--and just looking at Christy during the evening had made him desirous of even so little as a simple kiss. In fact, he had been secretly hoping that he would have an opportunity such as this when midnight arrived; those full sensuous lips of hers glistened invitingly, and she had the damnedest habit of moistening them constantly with the tip of her little pink tongue, making you want to taste them more and more each time you looked at them.

Christy was smiling when he turned to her, and her eyes said that she knew what he wanted to do and that it was all right. She opened her arms to him, and he pressed in close to her, feeling the taut, hard-nippled firmness of her breasts brand his chest hotly, even with the silver lame gown and his suit between their bare flesh. Then his lips were on hers, and her tongue flickered into his mouth to fuse with his, teasing along the ridged roof and over his teeth.

Holy Christ! Kirk thought with surprise. She really knows how to French-kiss! I'll bet she's something wild in the sack... I'll bet she lets Eric go down on her, and I'll bet she goes down on him, too... Christ, it must be nice to have a wife who's really a happy slut in bed, who isn't afraid to experiment and try new positions, new ways... Vicki's a damned beautiful woman, and I love her, but all she wants is Western style, no oral sex and no experimentation... she's just static when it comes to love-making... that goddamned old lady of hers was the problem, all right, with all the moralistic crap about sex being only for procreation and not to be enjoyed for its own sake...

Christy's hot, probing tongue began to flash in and out of Kirk's mouth as if she was trying to rape him with it, and he felt his penis give an involuntary leap of arousal. The silver blonde seemed to sense his passion, and wantonly ground her pelvis tighter against his loins, moving her hips in a lewd circular motion. Christ in heaven, what was she doing? Kirk thought with liquored confusion. It was almost as if she was trying to screw him standing up, right there with all their clothes on! Hell, she dry-fucked better than Vicki actually made love, and his eagerly throbbing cock was almost erect from her erotic movements against him.

But then, abruptly, Christy withdrew her tongue from his mouth and pulled back, smiling sultrily at him with her smoky eyes half-lidded. She smoothed the lame gown with the palms of her hands, as she had done earlier. Kirk released several short breaths, flushed guiltily at the bulge along the light leg of his trousers and darted a look to see if Vicki had noticed his excitement. But she was laughing merrily as Eric put one of the little party hats on her head, and Kirk breathed a sigh of relief. After a moment, his penis returned to its normal state, and he tried to push the incident out of his mind. It couldn't have meant anything anyway, he told himself; but the way she'd turned on like that meant Christy Kaye was sure to be ready for a screwing any time, anywhere, and it probably didn't take more than a pat on the fanny to set her sex fires to burning.

They sang Auld Lang Syne, loudly and off-key, and then convulsed into gales of laughter, blowing on the party favors and noisemakers which Eric had produced just before midnight. Kaye poured them all more champagne, and they continued to drink until Christy suggested they dance.

Kirk and Vicki nodded enthusiastic approval of the idea, and Eric put a mood music tape Gleason's Music for Lovers--on a tape deck located in an impressive bank of stereo components behind a sliding panel in one wall. Vicki and Kirk danced together for awhile, as did Eric and Christy, and then they changed partners; the changing seemed the most natural thing in the world to Vicki, who rested her raven head against Eric Kaye's shoulder and allowed him to pull her close.

As they moved slowly on the azure carpet, Vicki thought drowsily: This is one of the most wonderful evenings I've ever spent... so happy and beautiful and perfect, being with the two closest men in my life--my husband and my boss... oh I don't want tonight to ever end...

Kirk's thoughts as he held Christy tightly in the fold of his arms were of a different nature. He tried to concentrate on the music, tried to keep from dwelling on the warm softness of the provocative woman in his embrace, but it was futile. His mind was filled with lewd thoughts of Christy Kaye: How she would look and feel nakedly spread out beneath him with the silver hair tangled in his fingers while he fucked into the tightness of her cunt again and again. His restlessly stirring cock ached with a growing lust, and it was rising again into half-erectness from the contact of her abdomen beneath the silver gown.

He told himself again and again that such thoughts were wrong, that he was somehow mentally cheating on his wife by even thinking them. He knew his face and neck were flushed red, and he knew that his pulsating penis could be felt by Christy; what was she thinking? he wondered. Surely she knew what was on his mind, feeling his long thick cock nudging against her loins. Was she secretly laughing at him? Or, somehow, was she attracted to him? That could be it; else, why hadn't she pulled back at the feel of his hard-on? Jesus, what would she do if he made a pass at her? Would she slap his face, or would she... ?

His reverie was broken by the sound of his wife's voice. Vicki said: "I... I feel a little woozy, Eric. I think I'd better sit down." She giggled suddenly. "Think I've had a wee bit too much champagne..."

Concern crept into Kirk's mind, momentarily overshadowing his salacious thoughts. He watched as Eric led Vicki to the couch and seated her there. Vicki leaned her head back against the cushions and closed her eyes; her face was flushed from the combined effects of alcohol and dancing.

Kirk went to his wife, unmindful that the bulge along his trouser leg was readily apparent to the Kaye couple, unaware of the meaningful looks the two exchanged. He sat beside Vicki and took her hand; damn, he was feeling that champagne himself. The room seemed to have a haze in it, dulling his vision somewhat, and the inside of his mouth was dry.