Valerie and Ted:
You know who you are. Thanks for some wonderful memories
Valerie Marie Stephenson was scared shitless. She was scared, but it was in a tingly way; paralyzed with fear, but also feeling tingles of curiosity. She was sitting next to her husband, but she was too nervous to really have his words register.
"It's a nice place. I think you will like it. Remember; you don't have to do anything you don't want to. We are just going to go in and see what this place is like. If you don't like it, we can leave." He didn't really have the courage to look at her, and let the appearance of concentrating on his driving appear to be the reason he was not looking at her.
"I love you hon; and I just want you to have a good time. You look outstanding." He said. It was the truth. She looked spectacular, but he was trying to take her mind off of her nervousness.
Valerie's husband, Ted, had brought up the subject slowly; and over a period of years. It had come out as playful pillow talk that she had initially dismissed. It had first emerged after many years of marriage. They had done the traditional things over the years. They had had sex in all of the different rooms of their nice house. They had done it in the dark. He had taken her while she was on the phone. She had been laying on the floor, talking to her sister. She had been wearing only a tee-shirt. He had rolled her over on her back and drug her out onto the screened back porch. It was dark. He had pulled her shirt up and started in; slowly licking her along her slit. He had a bright idea.
He went into the bathroom and came out with an electric razor, small set of scissors and shaving cream. Using the scissors, he clipped her pubic hair as close as he could. Then with the electric razor, he shaved her down to almost nothing. Then with the shaving crème and safety razor, he smoothed her like a baby's butt.
She tried to talk to her sister as though nothing had happened. Slowly, his tongue got the better of her. He licked her until her voice began to crack and her breathing became labored. She could barely talk when she finally hung up. Her husband enjoyed teasing her that way. He was a good twenty years older than her. In order to keep his interest; to get it up, he had to come up with more and more different ideas of things to do. The ordinary things a teenager might find exciting had already been done a thousand times. That is why over the years, Ted began to slowly expand his fantasies to his wife.
What began as faint thoughts of excitement and pie-in-the sky erotic thoughts were beginning to become a string of growing obsessions. Down deep, he was curious how men saw her. He began to fantasize about men being obsessed with her. He began coaxing her into wearing slightly more provocative clothes. He baited her into wearing shorter dresses and watched her go to try on shoes. He delighted in watching her embarrassment in trying to keep her dress down as her feet were guided into the new shoes.
He kept buying her shorter dresses when they went out. At first she had almost refused. Now, so many other young girls wore such outrageously short dresses, perhaps it wasn't so embarrassing after all. She still, at the age of forty, had spectacular legs; hips the width of a young boy, and breasts of a young girl. They were grapefruit sized, un-sagging and pointing straight out.
He had tried to coerce her into going out in public without a bra or panties. She had refused. Eventually they reached a compromise. She would dress that way to please him; at night. They would go up to "Quality Hill," at night and park there with the top of the car down. At first she refused to leave the car. Eventually he talked her into going for a walk; hand in hand along the sidewalk. The other couples were so engrossed with each other, they barely noticed the older couple.
Valerie put up with it. She had a sense from seeing talk shows and reading articles that her husband was older and needed additional stimulation to "get it up." Reluctantly she put up with it, hoping he would get over it. To her anguish, it seemed to be getting worse.
His distant fantasies had gone from coercing her into revealing outfits, to discussions of possible encounters with other men. It went from "What if ... to would you ... to why don't we..." It was going from fantasy to a possible reality.
When he was discussing remote fantasies, she had reluctantly gone from shock to grudgingly trying to humor him. At some point; she didn't know quite when, he had begun laying out scenarios that were no longer fantasy.
They were now in the car on a Friday night. The top was down, she was sitting in the passenger seat; wondering; "How the fuck did I get into this situation?" She was trying to slump down in the seat. She was wearing a button front dress that came down to mid-thigh if she was standing. In the car, it rose almost to her crotch. The last button just above the hem had been cut off by her husband before he gave it to her. The top was unbuttoned almost to the bottom of her breasts.
The high heels of her almost knee high boots brought her knees almost up to the bottom of the sill of the black lotus they were in. Her long reddish brown hair had been braided into a French braid and bobbed up and down as the wind lifted it. Her nervous hands played with the double strand of pearls wound around her neck and hung almost to her navel.
She was nervous, but tried not to show it. "Are you sure this place is okay, hon?" she asked nervously. "I heard that it can get a little rowdy this time of night. The Chiefs have finished spring training and the first game is not for a week or so. The players are pretty arrogant and lots of them get in fights with the local clientele over the young girls that come in. I don't know that we will fit in with this younger crowd." She said as she played with the pearls and the end of her braid.
"Val, honey, you look spectacular. You have nothing to worry about. I never said you have to do anything. We are just here to get away from the house for a while. Of course, if you see anybody that interests you; who knows?" he said, not really comfortable with looking at her.
"I know; I know. You keep saying that, but I know what you want me to do." She said nervously. They had been through this the last six or eight weekends. Ted had taken her to different bars and dropped her off ... He had gone to Borders and read a magazine until they had closed. Then he would go to the bar and sit at the counter, as far from her as possible to see how she was doing. Usually some squeaky looking geek with dark rimmed glasses and a pencil protector was sitting next to her with a pen protector in his shirt pocked showing her bar tricks.
That was fine with Val. She knew her husband's fantasy was to have her fuck a big black stud that was hung like a horse. If the night kept on the way it had gone previously, she would get home unscathed; again. "Everybody wants to fucking look, but none of these creeps is willing to step up." She thought; thankfully spotting her husband as he came through the front door. He stood for a while, scanning the room. When he spotted her relieved expression, he walked over and kissed her softly. "No action tonight?" he whispered.
Valerie was relieved at the outcome. "Nothing tonight, hon." She said as she smiled feebly at him. She was relieved for the most part, but deep down inside, there was a small spot of disappointment at the outcome. She didn't want to fuck anybody, on the other hand, she missed that look she was used to seeing; that look of hunger in men's eyes. She despised and yet missed it. It wasn't a conscious thought. She didn't miss the struggle and awkwardness of turning men down. She missed the attention; the idea that she was the center of attention. She followed her husband to an open booth at the side of the dining room.
"I guess I'm losing my touch, honey." She said as she slid into the booth opposite her husband. "You aren't losing your touch, babe; there are just a bunch of dorks here. We'll try again next week somewhere else." He said, trying to mask his disappointment. "Do you want to go home, or get another drink? I think they are going to have Karaoke in a few minutes."
"I'm open to anything. I'm with you." Val said; somewhat relieved that he was not going to continue the hunt by exploring another bar. They talked for a while; neither had their mind on the upcoming Karaoke event. Each had their own private thoughts of disappointment or relief over the events so far.
About that time, Ted tried not to telegraph any surprise as he looked up at the entrance. He had recognized the man as he came in. It was Marcel Cain, one of the Chiefs tight ends. He was about 6'-8" tall and about 280 pounds with not an ounce of fat on him. He had a short Mohawk of sorts. The sides of his head were shaved. The hair along the top of his head was braided down the back of his head. It had been a sort of dare to the defensive players to try to use it to catch him. He more or less dared them to grab the thing to stop him. He had had a long playing career and was probably in his last few seasons of professional ball.
"Come over here, babe." Ted said to his wife. Valerie stood and moved over to his side of the booth. "I want you to go over and sign up for the Karaoke thing. There is a guy sitting right next to the Disk Jockey. When you sign up, ask him if he has any favorite song he wants to hear. If he gives you one you know, tell him he will have to buy you a drink for doing it.
Val was a mixture of nervousness and fear as she tried to condition her mind to her husband's comments. She was almost too numb to realize that her husband had moved her hand from her lap and loosened one more button above the hem of her dress. She struggled to get up. Nervously she walked over to the bar. Everybody was staring; she thought. "Surely they know that I have no underwear and no bra," her mind screamed. "I've got to get through this." She told herself as she clip clopped across the limestone pavers toward the bar.
"I ... I ... I think I need to sign up for ... for ... for the Karaoke thing when it starts." She stammered. She tried not to look at him. She tried not to look at the man who was really the focus of her being there.
"Okay, honey; you're the first to sign up. What would you like to sing?" the DJ asked. That was it. Valerie looked up to meet the inquisitive stare of the most frightening eyes she had ever seen.
"What ... what ... what; Do you have any songs you ... you ... you would like to hear?" she asked the man beside her.
"What; me? I don't know. How about something by Sam Cooke?" he said with a smile. He couldn't believe his good fortune. This mesmerizing older woman was actually asking him a question. He was accustomed to having all kinds of airheads trying to approach him, but she was different, somehow. There was some kind of strange mixture of fright, discomfort and yet ... curiosity from this curious creature that was enticing.
He was used to one night stands. He was used to young girls who wanted to fuck. For some strange reason this woman had a certain aloofness; a certain detachment that he was not familiar with. What was it?
"I can probably sing Summertime or Bring it on Home." She replied. "Let's see what the DJ has." She said, trying to avoid the awkward eye contact with him. The DJ said he had all the Sam Cook songs.
When the music started, the DJ announced her. "Ladies and Gentlemen; children of all ages. We have tonight our first contestant a young woman who is just as beautiful as she sings. Please help me welcome our first contestant tonight." He looked over at Valerie and extended his arm. "Miss Valerie Marie Stephenson." The audience roared.
The continued to clap as Valerie walked to the small stage at the front of the bar. The music began:
And the living is easy
Fish are jumping
And the cotton is high
Your daddy's rich
And your mamma's good looking
So hush little baby
Don't you cry
Ted watched; mesmerized by his beautiful wife. She had an enchanting shyness about her.
He had heard her a thousand times before, but this was different. It was not just a song. It was step two of a drama he had set up. To the audience it was just a song by a beautiful woman. To him, he knew his wife had been prompted to entice the black beast at the bar over for a drink. What would happen then? Would he want to fuck her?
When she was done, the audience went crazy. They had become used to drunks trying to sing on Karaoke night; but this was different. Not only was she a great singer; she was equally as beautiful.
Valerie's smile was a mixture of gratitude for the applause and apprehension for whatever was about to happen next as she walked over to the bar. The huge black man had two glasses and a pitcher of beer in his hands when she came over to him.
"Would ... would ... would you care to join my husband and me over at our booth? She asked nervously. "Great." He replied; not sure where this was going. At first he thought maybe this was going to be an easy fuck. Now there was a husband involved. "What's going on?" he wondered.
"Ted; glad to meet you. My wife here, is Valerie." He said as he stood and extended his hand. Ted had been anonymous enough not to include their last names. "Marcel; Marcel Cain," the tall black man replied. "Your wife is a beautiful singer. She's not too shabby in the looks department either." He said, trying diplomatically not to stare at the unbuttoned part of her dress. "Have a seat Mister Cain." Ted said. He sat at the edge of his side of the booth, leaving Valerie no option but to sit on the other side with Marcel. When he saw what was going on, he gestured with a sweeping hand to let her enter the booth first. Valerie gave her husband a helpless stare; questioning or hesitant to accept his obvious effort to seat her beside the beast of a stranger.
"Let's have a celebration to a wonderful singer; a beautiful woman and a surprising coincidence of our meeting," Marcel said as he poured beer into the two glasses. There were not three glasses, so somebody would have to share. Marcel pushed one over to Ted and the other over to Valerie, who was unsure what was going on.
"Are you two just visiting here in town, or do you live in the area?" Marcel asked; still not sure how to access the whole situation. Valerie looked over to her husband to see what he would say. "Oh, we live in the area." Ted replied; vaguely ambiguous about exactly where or how far away. "It's a nice spring Friday and we thought we would go out for a change."
It was a mostly black area of town, and not many whites came to this area, except that there were many notable blues singers who played there. Marcel decided he would test the limits of their hospitality. He turned towards Valerie. He picked up the glass of beer and offered her a sip as he put his left hand around the back of the booth behind her.
"I'm so glad we met. You have a truly beautiful wife here, Ted. You need to be more careful of who you leave her unattended with. Some stranger like me would be almost powerless to pull away from an unattended woman like this." Marcel looked up at Ted and then into Valerie's eyes as he held the glass for her.
Valerie was thunderstruck with such a blatant gesture. As she raised her eyes to look at her husband, Marcel placed his hand over hers. It was done tenderly, but blatantly. It was done to test Ted's reaction. She looked into Ted's eyes for his reaction. He showed no aversion to the comments. In fact, he seemed intrigued with the interaction. "What the hell," she thought. " I guess this is what Ted wants me to do." She looked uncertainly up into Marcel's eyes; searching to see if this was just an innocent gesture or a harbinger of more ominous intentions. For just a millisecond, their eyes met.
It was such a brief exchange; but both of them seemed to connect. They both understood or had a good understanding of what was going on. "Am I going to fuck you? Are you interested in me?" her mind screamed. She could see in his eyes that he was ready to fuck her. Her husband be damned. He would have laid her out right there on the table and rammed it in her if he could.
"Maybe this is just a chance meeting. Maybe Ted has to think about this some more. Maybe they would go home and discuss it." Valerie thought.
"Well, Mrs. Stevenson, the drinks are expensive here; it's too loud for me to hear our conversation. I have a place near her that is a lot quitter and I think I have better drinks. Have you eaten yet?" he asked. "No, we haven't eaten yet. We thought we might get something here or go somewhere else." Ted answered. Valerie looked up at him in apprehension. "Weren't they going to at least discuss this a little?" she wondered. Maybe she could talk him out of it; or at least find a way to put it off for a couple of more weeks until her mind could accept or acclimate to the idea.
"I have some steaks I just bought at Whole Foods. They have been marinating in a mixture of soy sauce, rice wine vinegar, brown sugar and ginger for three days now. If I don't cook them I will have to throw them out soon." He stood without waiting for an answer. Valerie was hoping for some protest from her husband, or excuse to bow out, but none came.
Marcel stood to one side and raised a hand to help her out. As Valerie scooted out of the booth, there was no graceful way to exit or cover herself as the already short dress parted; almost to her crotch. She had a choice; she could either hold the hem together, or she could put her hand at the top of the low cut top where her braless breasts were almost exposed to the tall man standing above her. She chose to put her fingers against the top of her dress as she pivoted as gracefully as possible.
Marcel put his left hand around her waist and guided her towards the exit. When they got outside, Marcel said: "Why don't we just take my car? I can give you a ride back here when you are ready to leave." It wasn't that much of a question as a way of phrasing a command by someone who was used to be in charge.
Marcel walked over to a brand new Lotus with Pearl Purple custom paint. He opened the door of the two-seat sports car. "She's going to have to sit in your lap; either that or you can drive and she can sit on me." The couple stood; speechless, not able to make a decision. Marcel threw the keys to Ted and got in the passenger side. He took Valerie's hand. There was no asking for permission. She seemed powerless to resist. She looked helplessly over to her husband as she allowed herself to be positioned on his lap. He just picked her up like a rag doll and put her on his lap and shut the door.
Without knowing what else to do, Ted walked around to the driver's door and got in. He fastened himself into the five point racing harness and struggled to find the switch. The engine had already been programed to be race tuned. The timing had been so far advanced, it would hardly run. It idled at about 500rpm. The factory exhausts and catalytic converter had been removed. It had a pair of glass packs and sounded like a '34 ford with a blower, except for the higher rpm when he hit the gas.
Marcel hit the GPS and the screen went on. "Follow the GPS." He said. Valerie's heart was racing. She was sitting across Marcel's lap. Her already too-short dress with two buttons open was flapping in the wind. She tried to put her small clutch purse over the juncture. She tried to ignore Marcel's hands. One was around the back of her waist; supporting her away from the door. The other hand seemed to weigh a ton and was now on top of her hands on her lap. She looked over at her husband.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" her eyes seemed to be screaming. Ted tried to pretend he was too busy driving to look over; but he was well aware of what was going on. "Couldn't we have at least talked a little more about this? Don't I have the final say in this matter?" she wondered; hoping to catch her husband's attention.
"How do you like the car so far?" Marcel said to Ted as he looked into Valerie's eyes. Valerie felt him move her hands to her side. He reached for her left hand; wrapped it up over the back of his neck and down over his left shoulder. They both looked into each other's eyes; trying to read each other's minds. He was trying to measure her resistance. She was trying to gauge his intentions. Most women from the age of 14years on; can read that gaze in a millisecond. He had the gaze of an African Serval; but his voice and manners were friendly and refined.
He did not look down as he reached for the hem of her dress. She felt him fold the sides down over her thighs; baring most of her legs. "What do you think Ted? Isn't she simply ravishing?" Ted kept his eyes on the road. Valerie was searching his face desperately trying to read him. Was he sure this was okay? Maybe he was now; this was his fantasy. What will become of us a month from now; a year from now; ten years from now? She was willing to put up with all this if that was what he wanted; if she knew he would be okay with it ten years from now. It was a sacrifice she could accept if she knew he would not change his mind later.
"Are you sure you are okay with this hon?" she seemed to whisper towards him. "You do whatever you want Valerie. You know I love you." It was a disguised command. "This is what I want." Was what he really meant.
"Mister Stephenson; she has asked you a question. I'm not sure you have answered it clearly. I want to fuck her. She needs your permission. You need to tell her what to do. It has to be clear. She is waiting for your instructions. What are they?"
Valerie tensed as she felt his hand move to the next button; opening her to the crotch. She watched her husband's eyes as Marcel pressed his fingers between her legs; forcing her to spread her to uncross her legs. His thumb and fingers were massive. He was gentle, but she could tell he had muscles of steel.
She seemed helpless as he spread her legs a little farther. She bit her lip as he raised her right leg onto the console between the bucket seats; her high heel crooked up in front of the floor shift. She had her head against his chest because of how her arm was wrapped around him. They were both looking to him; watching his expression, or lack of it.
Ted knew what he wanted, but it had to be a calculated response. He couldn't appear like a little child jumping up and down looking at Christmas presents under the tree. He couldn't appear too reluctant, lest it feed her reluctance and uncertainty.
"Valerie, honey, we have talked about this in the past. Up until now, it was all a fantasy to be talked about. Now we are in it. I would, quite frankly be excited to see you do this. It would mean a lot to me if you could find a way in your heart to do this. I also want you to feel free to enjoy this. You have my permission." He said as he turned briefly to look into his wife's eyes.
Valerie's heart sank. She was hoping; deep down that he would order her to stop; that he might show signs of being willing to crash the car to stop all of this. She had hoped he would have said: "I love you too much to share you with anybody. It would crush me to see you do this." But, again, she knew this would not happen.
Their intimate whispering in bed had come to open talks during walks in the park. Now, for the first time the issue was out in the open with a stranger; whose lap she was sitting on. His fingers were rough; calloused and steely strong.
"Oh my fucking God." Her mind screamed. "If his fingers are that big, how big is the thing he is planning to push into me? How am I going to handle that?" her mind screamed. She had never felt fingers that big.
Still a little indignant and embarrassed with the public fondling in front of her husband, she placed her right hand over the serpents trying to bury themselves between her legs. She was not putting out a real effort to stop him; she was closer to trying to psychologically hide what he was doing from her husband. It was dark. He couldn't really see what was happening, but he could tell from her breathing from the soft groans of indignation escaping from her mouth.
Marcel had some secret inner sadistic nature about him that was not clearly evident. He took his hand out from under hers. He placed her hand against her soft treasure. "You do it." He said. Valerie froze. She had always resisted her husbands insistence when he had tried to make her do this before. He reached for the top of her dress and started with the remaining top buttons. One by one, he pushed the buttons through the eyelets. "You do it." He said again as he kissed her on the lips.
It was just a soft kiss. But it was so much more. A kiss from a parent to a child is one thing. A kiss from a stranger; a beast, who is unbuttoning your clothes is a different experience. "Tell her Ted."
"Do it." It was almost a whisper. The words were catching in his throat. "She can't hear you." Marcel said. "Listen to him, honey. Do what he says."
Valerie gulped as she tried to absorb the words from her husband. She buried her face in his chest; not for comfort. It was her feeble effort to close her mind to the commands from this stranger and also from the man she loved.
"Mmmmmm..." Came more from her nose than from her mouth. It almost seemed to come from deep within her chest as her right hand began to move slowly; almost imperceptibly. Her fingernails were a bit too long to stick her fingers inside her. She used the knuckle of her thumb against the top of her slit; against that rigid little bud of tissue; the little sleeping penis guarding the entrance to her treasure.
It was a sigh. It was a reluctant sign of being forced to perform for her husband and the stranger; the beast she was sitting on. She felt Marcel's hand over hers again. He was coaxing her. He was guiding her. He was putting pressure on her hand to rub her thumb more firmly over her clitoris. "Mmmmmmm..." Was this the sound of ecstasy or humiliation? In truth, it was a mixture of more than one feeling; ecstasy to her husband; humiliation to her. Her mind was having trouble keeping up with what was happening.
Marcel pulled the sides of her now unbuttoned dress to each side and examined her body. She was beautiful. Her breasts were not big. They were more like cantalopes or honeydew melons; perfectly formed half globes that were unaffected by the years of gravity that deform women much younger than her. He was not used to seeing pink nipples like these. He was not used to seeing nipples that were as long as hers. They were closer to the shape of savages in the Congo. They were Bai Ling Nipples. They were sweet to smell and mesmerizing to the eyes.
Valerie kept her eyes closed. Her fingers hardly moved to those who were watching. To her, she was being forced to masturbate herself in front of the man she loved. "I'm going to make it through this; aren't I?" she tried to tell herself as she felt Marcel lever her chin up away from his chest. She had guessed what he wanted. It was just a kiss; but it was so much more. It was the first step of her rape. She was powerless to resist; wasn't she?
She did not protest or resist as he levered her face up to meet his. The wind blew the few loose tufts of hair away from her as she allowed herself to be raised to meet him. He kissed her. Their lips were dry. He moistened his lips to try again. Had she done the same? It must have been a reflex. He took it as a sign of acceptance. She meant nothing by it. It was a reflex.
"I don't feel you moving." He said. Valerie had stopped rubbing herself as she had braced for the kiss. Perhaps she had taken this as the actual rape; it was the rape of her mouth. She knew that his tongue would eventually enter. To her, there was no difference. The effect was the same. She was going to let this stranger's tongue into her mouth. She was going to accept it. When it came, she tilted her head to the side and opened her mouth to let him in. she allowed her tongue to swirl around his. It was her signal of lowering her resistance than her sign of acceptance.
Valerie felt Marcel's hand on hers; signaling her to continue. "Mmmmmmmmm..." It meant so many things to the different parties in the car.
The car slowed as Ted let off of the gas. The annoying British woman's voice said: "Arriving at destination." The slowing motor speed produced a growl as it brought the car to a crawl. Ted pulled up in the driveway, and Marcel picked up the remote to open the garage door.
Thankful for a reprieve, Valerie brushed the few wisps of hair from her face and began to button her dress thinking they would be getting out of the car in a second. "No; that's okay." He said as he stopped her from buttoning her dress.
The lights came in in the garage. It looked like an operating room. You could probably eat supper off of it. They were in the basement. Once in the basement, the garage doors closed. "Leave it here; it's okay." Marcel said.
Valerie looked around as she pulled the sides of her dress together. Marcel opened the door and pivoted her feet out on the ground. She stood. She was embarrassed to be nearly naked, but couldn't help but notice all the cars in the garage.
Besides the Lotus, there was a Corvette and several other sports cars. There were also a number in various stages of assembly. Marcel put his arm around her and guided her to the stairs. As they went by the cars, he made comments about several of them. One of surprise was a 1959 Cadillac. The engine had been overhauled; everything chromed and in top shape. The body was structurally perfect except for one thing. It had been cleverly painted to look like a rattle trap. The finders were mis-matched;l one blue, one white, another black. The finish had been disguised to look like the real metal was rusting. Marcel turned it on. It sounded like a Formula One race car. It had been race tuned with the timing so far advanced; it would hardly run at idle. This was his car to move anonymously around town in.
"Valerie, honey, you are such a beautiful creature, even the most beautiful clothes do you no justice." She felt him reach for the shoulders of her dress. She didn't feel she had much choice as he slid the garment from her shoulders. Embarrassed, she crossed her arms in front of her. Marcel looked over at her husband in a mixed expression of exasperation and annoyance. "You need to put your arms down, hon. You do look good." Her husband said softly.
Goosebumps washed over her as she forced her arms to her side. Marcel took her free hand. Her other had the small clutch purse. Ted walked behind the couple as they went up the stairs to the main floor. All Valerie had on now were her dark leather high heeled boots that zipped up the sides to just below her knees. Her long pearl necklace seemed to sway from side to side with each step she took. The sound of her high heeled shoes across the honed limestone floor seemed to be calling attention to her nakedness. She stared straight ahead; mentally unable to bring her emotional dignity to the level of her looks. She was magnificent. She was just not used to being naked in front of two men.
The house was a three story structure. The house had to an extent the floor plan of a "V" except that the point of the "V" was curved. The lower level was all basement garage space; enough for an army of cars ... The grade sloped up to the main level. The main and upper level had a clearstory with glass all the way up. The main floor had a living room, dining room, kitchen, media room, game room and servants quarters. The upper floors had views to the outside and clear to the basement. From the main floor, the kitchen and dining areas were open to the upper grade in back and had an outdoor patio and grille.
"Are you a good cook, Mrs. Stephenson?" Marcel asked. "She's an excellent cook." Ted responded. "Great; maybe you can do the cooking tonight. Before you start, maybe you can get us some drinks first." Marcel said with a smile as he looked over at Ted. Ted looked up at her and nodded. Valerie was embarrassed enough with her nakedness. It was even worse to have to prance around in that state and serve drinks or cook.
"What do you men want to drink?" she almost whispered as she looked towards the kitchen. "A couple of beers would be great. Get one for yourself." Marcel said as he sat down on the couch in front of the large flat screen television.
The walk to the refrigerator and back to the couch seemed a lot longer than it really was to Valerie as she brought the beer to the men. "Valerie, honey, could you go to the bedroom upstairs and get a couple of bathrobes for us? I think your husband may be a little self-conscious about being naked.
"There are several white ones. Pick out the ones you like." He said as he pointed to the stairs to the upper floor. Valerie click clacked her way to the spiral stairs. Under different circumstances she would have been overwhelmed with the architecture of the house. Right now, she was overwhelmed with her nakedness and what it was surely going to lead to.
At the top of the spiral staircase, Valerie unconsciously turned to her left. She walked through an innocuous doorway. She had walked into the bedroom suite. She was standing in the parlor. To one side was the "Husband's" room with its own bathroom and walk in closets. To the other side was the mirror image; "wife's bedroom, bathroom and walk in closets.
She walked into the "husband's" closet and turned on the light switch. The clothes were arranged according to color on each side. One side was for formal and business wear. The other side was informal wear. At the very front were a series of terrycloth bathrobes. Val took three. They were short. She put on one; probably knowing that he would not let her keep it. What the hell, she thought. Why not try?
On the way back to the two men, she held one robe in each hand. When she got there, Marcel glared at her. He didn't say anything. "Get your husband first, hon."
Val looked at her husband. He was sitting in one of the leather couches that was arranged in a "U" pattern facing the flatscreen on the wall. She hesitated. Was she supposed to undress him, or would he do it himself? "Come on, hon, you know what to do. Show us your erotic side." Marcel said in a subtle sneer.
It was one thing for her husband to press her about fulfilling his fantasy. She still wasn't sold on it, but her decisions didn't seem to matter much right now. She was starting to resent the subservient attitude that was being imposed on her.
Val kneeled in front of her husband. He did not seem to be showing much initiative. Valerie raised her arms and hesitatingly began to undress him; starting with unbuttoning his shirt. His jeans wouldn't come off over his boots, so she pulled them off one at a time. Nervously, she took his socks off and stuffed them into the boots beside him. Next came the shirt. She pulled the tails out of his jeans and peeled it over his shoulders. She folded the garment and put it on the arm of the couch. Val was uncomfortable undressing her husband in front of this stranger; but what the hell, it kept her mind off of being naked herself. Ted raised up off the couch as she slide the jeans and underwear past the edge of the couch. She tried to ignore his growing excitement. "How could you?" she thought. "I am being humiliated and you are showing excitement?" she thought.
She folded his jeans and put them on top of his boots and shirt. She sat down next to Ted, thinking somehow that it was over? No such luck. Marcel spread his legs and tapped the space between his legs on the couch.
Valerie looked briefly up at her husband before standing. "I hope the fuck this is making you happy." Her eyes seemed to glare at him as she walked over to him. She stood hesitatingly between his legs, knowing pretty much what his next command was going to be. She was going to make him say it. She wasn't going to show an ounce of initiative for what she knew she was there for.
"What do you think is next, Mrs. Stephenson?" he almost whispered. "What do you want her to do, Ted?"
"You know what to do, Valerie, honey." Valerie bit her lip as she dropped to her knees in front of the dark savage.
"I thought you men wanted something to eat first," Valerie whispered, oblivious to the double entendre she had not intended.
"Oh, we want to have something to eat, babe, but so will you. Everything in due time."
"You need to get us in the mood. You need to get us in the right setting. How do you propose to do that?" Marcel said with a knowing smile. She knew what he wanted. There was no way out. She started with his boots first; pulling off one, then the other. "Don't you want me to put those steaks on first?" she asked as she tucked his socks into his boots.
Marcel just looked at her, knowing he had her where he wanted her. He could tell she was stalling; trying somehow to put off the inevitable. He did not answer her. She would not meet his eyes as she unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. She looked one last time into his eyes, looking for a reprieve knowing that his jeans were next. When he said nothing, she knew she had no choice.
She was hoping somebody would find a way to lessen her tension as she opened his belt buckle; opened his brass snap behind it and stared reluctantly at the zipper.
She thought back wistfully at her first teenage years. "How little has changed." She thought as she pulled the tab down. The men were silent as the sound of the zipper seemed to fill the room; announcing that Valerie was about to be initiated; again.
She thought back; about how similar this was to her first time. She had been a gangly young fourteen-year-old, hoping to fit into somebody's crowd as a new freshman. She longed for some attention, back then and subconsciously was aching for the opportunity to fit in. She thought how flattered she was when a couple of the neighbor boys had invited her over to his house.
It seemed innocent enough; they had goaded her into going back home and taking off her bra. When she came back, she didn't look that different; but it was the tension of knowing. It was the tension of all of them knowing how improperly dressed she was. As the days went by, they began enticing her to gradually wear less each time. Finally, she had walked into the neighbor's house wearing only a tee shirt.