Chapter 1

Amanda glanced at the younger red-head by the bar. Like normal, the woman she was checking out at her husband's bidding was tall, thin, and not wearing much. Before answering her husband, she set her shoulders square and kept her chin up. "Don't you think she's a little plain?" Amanda commented.

"I think she's worth a night or two," Brent answered, meeting her eyes. She was trying to look so cool, he thought, but he knew she was struggling inside. Struggling to look strong, to not show the hurt from his obsession of other women. He gave her a break and looked away first — down to her chest. Her dark nipples stood out strong against the sheer pink fabric, a flimsy little halter top that hung loose at the bottom of her rib cage. One of his best purchases, he thought, her c cup implants. Didn't take her long to learn how to use them.

"Maybe I'll see what she's up to later tonight." Brent checked out the red-head again before taking a sip of his margarita. Would Amanda break down again? The first few times, now six years ago, she'd complain, but he told her to leave if she didn't like it. Next came the tears; Brent would just kiss them and tell her not to wait up. Amanda learned to accept Brent's dalliances. She had signed the prenuptial agreement, taking with her, in the case of divorce, only what she had added to the estate. Amanda lived off of Brent since the beginning. She was glancing back and forth down the bar, probably to avoid crying.

"Maybe I'll see if the guy down at the end in the white shirt wants to keep me company," Amanda said.

A new tact, Brent thought. He looked back over her shoulder at a well tanned handsome guy in his early thirties. "Sure, if you think you have a chance."

"What do you mean?"

"He probably has all the twenty year old beauties he wants." Amanda was thirty-seven. He was punching below the belt, he knew, but he loved to see her flinch.

"What do think of this dress?" Amanda asked. They were back in the hotel room overlooking the Caribbean. Amanda was still talking of her own seduction. She was wearing a tight flowery tube dress with a frilly neckline at the top of her cleavage and a mid-thigh hem.

"Pretty run of the mill tourist, don't you think?" She didn't answer. She looked hot enough to get most any man, but he was going to take this as far as he could. "A guy like him will look right past you. If you want his attention, wear the white one that I bought you last week."

Amanda held up the few ounces of thin white cloth. "I thought this was for our special night?"

"It was, but it would be sad to hear that you couldn't get laid." Her mouth dropped to a narrow strip of anger, but instead of saying anything, spun around back to the bedroom.

A minute later she emerged in the white dress. It was very short, hanging in a loose flair a couple of inches below her butt. The whole dress was held up by a string tie behind the neck, the strings becoming a narrow swath of fabric barely covering each tit before the two sides joined four inches below her navel. One button at the bottom of her ribs kept half of her breasts covered. Two cloth lines ran diagonal along both sides from her ribs to the back of the skirt. Otherwise, there wasn't any back at all. Brent could see the elastic line of her flesh-tone bra and panties. "Better, but it looks silly with a bra," he said. Amanda snorted a sigh and slipped off the bra. He looked down at her crotch.

Frowning, Amanda said, "It's always got to be a little bit more for you, huh?"

"Do you want to make sure that handsome man chooses you over all those younger sexy girls or not?"

"Fine." She removed her panties. Brent was glad he had pants on to hide his full erection. In ninety-five percent of the world she'd be arrested and probably abused on the way to jail. Her nipples stood out bold and brown against the sheer white fabric. Half of her tits were bare, as was all of her legs, back, the middle of her chest, and belly. The slightest wind or bending would lift the hem up her butt.

"You've got to let him know you're serious," he said.

"You won't be jealous if I don't come home until dawn?"

"It'll be good for you to go out on your own again." He grabbed her waist with both hands. "Drive them wild and tell me all about it tomorrow, okay?"

Amanda's jaw trembled for a moment. She sucked two breaths, swallowed, and said, "Maybe you'll wish... never mind."

He pulled her back to him, held the back of her head and kissed her deep. She didn't kiss back, but when he released he saw the turn of desire in her eyes. Then he said, "You and me tomorrow. Maybe even the same dress."

Brent waited until she had gone, afraid she would lose courage and change clothes or even not go at all if he left first. She was going to get noticed all right. As he watched her walk away, all he could see was her butt peaking out at the bottom of the tiny skirt and her bare back, sandy hair covering the tie. From the back, she looked topless. From the front, it looked like it wouldn't take much for her to take it off. He took a quick shower and readied for the night.

Saturday, just after dark. Thousands of partiers. Teenage girls tilting back quarts of beer, their soft bellies bare to the night. He ordered a margarita himself drinking it fast. Two young ones were giving him the eye from across the room, his preferred conquest when out alone, but tonight the fluttering in his groin was for his wife and the stir her outfit would cause.

Brent entered the bar they had been in earlier that evening, where Amanda had seen her own fantasy. With another two hundred people, it didn't look like the same place. He made his way to the bar for a drink without seeing his wife. Brushing past dozens of bare shoulders he strolled the perimeter of the noisy scene. In a less crowded corner was the man she had pointed out before with his arm around her waist, groin to groin, tipping sips of alcohol into her mouth. Brent stood staring while he emptied the glass down her throat. He then tipped her back and licked a spill from between her breasts.

"Should have seen her when she came in." A large guy in his early twenties in shorts and a tank top drinking a beer was filling Brent in. "Damn. Walked right up to him. Other guys trying to get her attention."

"She's not his girlfriend?" Brent asked innocently.

"Never seen her before. Bill lives around here — that's the guy she's rubbing up against. He always seems to get them anyway, but this one just walked up in her fuck me outfit and said hi, I'm Tiffany."

"She looks a little drunk."

"She's more than a little. That's the third she's put down with Bill and she wasn't sober before."

Bill had a hold of Amanda's arms twisting and pulling her to the techno beat, her tits bouncing in and out of the loose dress. "A lot of slutty girls around here," Brent said.

"She's further out there than most though, believe me. She's gonna get used tonight."

Brent took his drink upstairs finding a view from behind a poll of the spectacle his wife was causing. Was this how she thought to get even with him? Whore herself into some playboy's bed? Brent wasn't the only guy following Amanda's seduction show. Three guy's were already up on the second level starring down. The downstairs was crowded, but many eyes were following Amanda.

Bill took Amanda back to his table and sat her in his lap. He sloshed a refill from the margarita pitcher, took a sip, and then put it to Amanda's lips. As she tilted her head back, several pairs of eyes dropped to the bareness of her chest. She swallowed twice before trying to pull away, but he kept tipping. Liquid spilled out the side of her mouth and down her neck. Amanda sputtered and choked. Bill laughed, so did two other guys. Bill licked up her neck before smothering her in a French kiss. His hand slid from her knee up the thigh to just under the hem line, pinched the fabric and held on as he continued to her hip. The bottom of the dress lifted enough to let everyone know that this one wasn't even wearing underwear. "Damn," Brent said to himself. Bill stood her up, lifting her back onto the crowded dance floor, never leaving her lips, never letting go of her dress. Amanda's bare butt faced an audience. She reached around behind to pull her hem down; Bill dropped the fabric before she got there, drunken Amanda, perhaps, none the wiser of what had just happened.

Amanda separated from his kiss and pushed back, staggering a step to keep her balance. She swayed her hips. Bill moved in, spinning her around, pulling her back into his chest. He rubbed his hands up and down her waist. Amanda lifted her arms over her head and played with his hair. Her nipples strained taught against the thin white dress, her liquid filled belly peeking out under the one button. Her eyes were closed, but the men opposite her were bug-eyed.

Bill reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Brent saw a knife blade. In a quick swipe, the one button dropped to the floor, the knife back in his pocket. The sides of her dress popped open, a wide vee from her neck to the bottom of her belly, the edge of both nipples showing. Brent was watching the public stripping of his wife.

Amanda's reflexes being a bit slowed down, she didn't bring her arms down for a long ten seconds, during which time Bill twisted her until one breast was bare. Amanda felt her exposed breast and spun into Bill while she slipped it back in. Bill squeezed her tight so that she couldn't search her front for the button. He lifted her from the waist up to her toes for a kiss, then let her slip back down, all except her dress, which ended up at her hips.

Many men were doing nothing but watching the strip show. Brent didn't know if Amanda was too drunk to know, too drunk to care, or actually enjoying being the center of lust. Did she think she was in charge?

While Amanda backed off enough to pull down her hem with one hand, Bill took the other and spun her out. Her dress flared open. Amanda stumbled. Bill caught her off balance and took her down into a dip, one arm pinned behind her back, and licked between her breasts. Amanda couldn't move. One nipple popped out into the open air. Bill stared at it, guaranteeing everyone else doing the same, then blew on it until it swelled. Instead of licking the swollen nipple, he just stood her up and pressed her close, whispering into her ear.

Brent was hyperventilating, his cock stiff. He had always relished showing her off in public in tiny tight outfits, but he never thought he would so enjoy seeing other men use her. What had taken it too a whole new level was Amanda's attempt to get back at him, turn the tables. The worse she got it tonight, the more Brent would have control over her. He took another sip of beer and peered down again.

Bill had his arm tight around Amanda's back, her dress spread open to the middle of her nipples, all the way to the top of her crotch. He kept raising a glass to her lips; she would sip, he'd insist, she'd take a gulp. Bill took her into a small group of men and women, squeezing Amanda against his side. Brent had no idea what they were laughing about. A couple of women gave Amanda looks of disgust. One said something to her. Brent read the word "button" on Amanda's lips. The other woman just shook her head.

Another slug of tequila. It was mostly just three other men in the conversation now. Bill put his glass in Amanda's hands and walked off towards the bathrooms. She protested to his back and stumbled. Two of the men caught her, hands on both arms, bare belly and back. The other man stood in front, blocking her view, running his eyes up and down her chest.

Brent saw the fear in Amanda's face. She would try to smile, but only her mouth cooperated, and then, for only a flicker. She pulled lightly against the hands that held her, but they didn't let her go. The techno music drummed hard, lights flashing, shouting. Close to three hundred people in the big club by now. A few men were still watching the Amanda show from floor level and up above, where Brent was. The men on each side of her pressed their groins into her hips, still pinning her arms. Free hands gently stroked her belly and back. The man in front licked his lips while staring at her, but didn't touch. If they laid her out on a table right here, would anybody even try to stop it? How many would join in? Brent's mouth was dry from breathing fast.

Bill had returned, standing only a few feet behind Amanda and her capturers. As he approached, the guys relaxed their hold. Bill put a hand over her eyes while encircling her waist with his other arm, pulling the dress off of one breast. The other men still held her arms while Bill talked into her ear. He slipped the dress back onto her breast and motioned for them to release her. He turned her around and French kissed her, pinning her head when she started to pull away.

Bill leaned over to talk to one of the guys, then announced a goodbye. He picked his way through the crowd holding Amanda's hand, pulling her behind him. She staggered along, bumping into people, sometimes holding her dress closed, only to release while catching her balance, the dress reopening wide to the stares of those close by. Men steadied her with hands on her mid-section as she passed, sometimes bumping her into the arms of others. Bill pulled her along, rarely looking back, giving permission to the fondling. He appeared to be taking routes through single guys.

Brent hurried down the stairs, keeping about twenty feet back. Near the door, a woman stuck out a foot tripping Amanda. She stumbled along nearly horizontal, her tits dangling outside the dress. Bill turned around. "Don't mind her, she's just a little drunk. I'm gonna go throw her in the ocean and sober her up."

Out on the street, Bill took Amanda in a side hold. Heads turned as he marched her past clubs and restaurants. The three men who had held her while Bill had gone to the bathroom followed a few paces back. Brent dropped in behind them.

On they staggered past hotels and clubs. Bill bought a beer and kept putting it to Amanda's lips until she drank most of it, then tossed the rest. A tourist pointed a video camera at them and Bill obliged him by pinning Amanda's arms, twisting and bending his slut for the night until each breast had popped out of the dress.

Amanda was too drunk now to walk on her own. Bill held one of her arms over his neck and lifted her tight against his side with his right arm. Amanda's bare front causing a stir from everyone that passed. The march led out of the main strip to the daytime beach joints and some larger hotels. The three guys and Brent followed.

Bill suddenly turned to the left and disappeared between two buildings, a surf sport rental and a daytime restaurant. The three guys turned the same corner. Brent ran around the far side of the surf shop down to a storage shed near the surf. Bill and Amanda stood only thirty feet away at the surf-line. Tiny waves lapped lightly at their feet. He lifted her to her tiptoes while deep kissing her sloppy drunk mouth. The three guys stayed back by the edge of the building, their eyes fixed on the naked bottom of her butt. Bill pushed her back.