Chapter 2

The horror of his situation was now breaking into John's consciousness and he struggled to gather his thoughts. "You can't be serious," he sputtered. "You can't do this."

Carl answered sharply, "I am perfectly serious. There's nothing to stop me, is there?"

"I didn't know she was married," John pleaded. "You can't kill me for that. It was just the one time."

Carl looked at John as a parent looks at a five year old. "John. John. John. You didn't know she was married? She had her wedding ring on when we picked you two up. If it was just the one time, why are there nine charges to the Best Western on your last three credit card invoices? The Best Western is quite second-rate. Veronica deserves at least the Hilton, don't you think?"

John hung his head. He'd shot his bolt, not understanding just how much Carl knew of his affairs. Of course he'd known she was married.

"You ready to make your choice?" Carl asked.

John Garson was inured to people mocking his name. He had heard just about every variation of the 'Here's Johnny' joke imaginable, and some that couldn't be. Kids will do anything and say anything to move themselves up the pecking order. He'd not understood that when he was young. He was sensitive then and he allowed those early jokes to make him a bit of an outsider. He was too afraid of his parents to be a rebel, but he held part of himself back. Puberty changed things a bit.

He'd learned in his high school locker room that he was luckier than most of the other boys. There's an old saying that some are for showing and some are for growing. John's was definitely for showing. By his seventeenth birthday he was fully grown at just over nine inches. Amy Watson had measured him the proper way, along the top, making sure that he was fully inflated ... until he wasn't anymore. While he was well above average in length, Amy had measured his circumference at just under three and a half inches, well below average.

Long and thin, the girls loved to squeeze down on him as he reached areas they'd not had plumbed before. They could practice deep throat without hurting their jaws. None of them got all of him down, but he was happy to help them try.

After school, John worked in a Gap store for a while, then moved to Abercrombie and Fitch. He had an easy-going manner and could charm nearly everyone. He learned to sell and he learned to make people want to buy.

After high school he attended community college, studying psychology and business. He was doing what he liked, and was good at it. He moved to a local men's fine clothing store that offered a small salary with a good commission. His plan was to stay there until he learned to run the store and then strike out on his own. By his thirty-third birthday, he'd reached his goal.

They met when she walked into his store one Tuesday afternoon, and his life changed. Walked is not the proper word. She strode through the doors as if she owned the place. Veronica Riccardi was dressed in a snug pullover sweater, a mid-thigh length skirt, and fuck-me pumps.

She had come into his clothing store to buy something for her husband. John had immediately greeted her, taking in her obviously expensive outfit and the way it displayed her C cup breasts and hard toned body. He saw dollars more than anything else; the clothes gave away her credit rating.

"Good morning. My name is John. How may I help you this afternoon?" he asked.

She had looked him over as he approached. She adjudged him an attractive man, a little older and taller than she. "I'm looking for some ties and a pair of driving gloves."

"The gloves," he said, "are over on this rack." He turned to lead the way and she followed.

Ronnie was annoyed with herself as she realized she was checking out his ass. "Cut it out," said the little angel in the dingy grey robe sitting on her shoulder, "you'll get yourself into real trouble."

He showed her several pairs of high-end kid gloves and she chose two. John was pleased with himself — he was right about her taste and her casual way with money.

He led her to the displays of neckties and questioned her about her husband's wardrobe; colors, fabrics, designers. He expertly chose ties and handed them to her for her inspection. Fate took over when one tie slipped from her hand just as John turned his head toward the front of the store. She saw it fall and instinctively reached to catch it. She trapped it against John's leg, leaving no doubt in her mind that he chose boxers over briefs. What startled her most was how close to his knee she had touched. It was also relatively thin, her favorite. John was shocked, but kept his composure.

In less than a second he was ready to pretend that it never happened, and tell her that she was mistaken if she thought that she felt anything other than something in his pocket. Then he saw her radiant smile.

"I must apologize. I'm Ronnie. I can't believe my poor manners for not introducing myself earlier."

"There's absolutely nothing to apologize about," John replied. "Which ties did you find to your liking?"

"Well, I liked the last tie particularly. It seemed just the thing I like."

She unconsciously licked her lips as she made up her mind. "I saw some novelty neckties once in a catalog, but I don't suppose you carry anything like that. One was shaped and painted to look just like a trout. It was hilarious. Of course, the tie I liked the best in that catalog was one that was shaped and painted so it looked just like a penis. It was narrow and extra long. Do you have anything like that?" she asked in a sweet and oh so innocent voice. Her eyes belied her voice.

John was stunned and aroused. He saw Ronnie's eyes flick toward his leg and that only sped the process. He saw her eyes widen a touch and glimmer. Her smile widened. "Maybe you have a copy of that catalog in your office. Could we go have a look?"

John led Ronnie toward his office in the rear of the store. He gestured her to precede him and locked the door after he entered. She walked across the room and perched herself on the edge of the desk. As he swiftly joined her, Ronnie reached for his fly, unzipped him and removed his cock. She stared at it, running her tongue over her lower lip.

"Here's the offer, John," she said, "take it or leave it.

"You never get my pussy. Frankly, my husband is bigger than you, but he's too big to go in my ass, and I miss that. You, however, have the perfect cock for ass fucking. You always use a raincoat. We never kiss. I can't afford an STD and neither can you. My husband would NOT understand."

She stood and pulled the sweater over her head exposing her oh so perfect breasts restrained by a sheer, lacy bra. "So, Johnny," she purred, "do we have a deal?"