Chapter 7
Jim puffed out his cheeks and muttered, "Hold on, baby. We're going in."
Joyce didn't look at him. Instead she continued to stare straight ahead, but her body had changed. It had more color-more pink. And her breasts seemed heavier and higher. Her breathing was even more rapid and her lips were parted so that he could see her teeth. She kept licking her lips every few seconds as the minutes passed.
Scott was also different, Jim noticed. His color was higher and there was sweat on his forehead. He swallowed noisily now and then and his hands remained out of sight.
Jim returned to his task. He moved to her left hip, where he found the button and the zipper that unlocked the tight stretch pants. He got them open and the material peeled down across the side of her lower belly. He heard a small sound come from Scott and he paused to look.
Scott merely blinked and nodded. Then the bank president found his voice. "A wonderful stomach, Joyce. Just enough of a curve to be exciting. God, I may explode when I see your navel. Keep going, Jim, old man."
Jim did as he was told. He pulled gently at her opposite hip until the tight material began to slide. It was taking the elastic of her pants down with it when Scott barked another command.
"Keep the pants up! Those pink things. I want one garment off at a time. No cutting corners."
Jim pushed his wife's stretch pants down a few more inches and then he pulled on her panties all around. Her navel peeped into view and both men clucked when they saw it. It was a delightful little thing, a fascinating hollow and Jim wanted to worm his finger into its depth. But he knew he mustn't touch merchandise on lease to his boss. There was too much at stake now to mess things up.
He jerked several more times on the pants and they slid over Joyce's hips and then down her thighs. When they reached her knees Scott lifted his hand in the command to halt.
"Look at her, man! Look at those packed panties, and the way her stretch pants hang to her knees, keeping her helpless. God, that's what sets me on fire. To see a gorgeous creature so submissive, so helpless before me. Christ, I could do anything I wanted with her-right now. But I'll hold off. How sweet it is to contemplate rather than act hastily."
Jim wondered if it was the fact that Scott was in his forties which made contemplation more exciting than action, but he understood what his boss meant. Seeing his own wife standing, trapped, a helpless captive, a submissive captive, set him off, too. Even the thought of somebody else seducing her-somebody like Scott-was exciting to him.
"Go ahead now," Scott ordered at last.
Jim worked the pants down over her knees as he knelt beside her like a humble salesman dressing-or undressing-a mannequin. He got the pants to her feet and again her hand went to the top of his head as she steadied herself. First over one foot and then the other.
He tossed the pants to a chair and got to his feet. He roamed his eyes up and down his wife's figure. What a figure! Wearing only pants, she looked like a Greek goddess, tall, slim yet sturdy, totally feminine. Her breasts were proud headlights, her hips the cradle of her womanhood, her belly sucking in and out as her excitement increased, her legs long and straight and able to squeeze the last ounce of sperm out of a man's body.
He glanced at Scott and the older man looked as though he were ready to faint. His face was beet red and sweat was running down the sides of his head, staining the collar of his T-shirt. His hands were out of view still and Jim could see his shoulders working up and down a fraction of an inch at a time. He was breathing through his mouth as, indeed, Joyce and Jim himself were. As for Jim, his cock wanted to go off and it was with an effort that he held it back. He looked down, able to see the first dark spot at his fly. He hoped the others wouldn't notice.
Scott swallowed and waved. "Keep going. She's a vision, isn't she? A gorgeous creature. Hell, she should be declared a national treasure, something to be used only to influence visiting heads of state." He laughed abruptly. "Well, just call me the sultan of Morocco! Go ahead, James."
Jim smiled with a weak feeling in his gut. Then he looked into Joyce's face. Her chin was still high. She was still the goddess with the icy blue eyes, but that was the only thing about her that was cold. Her body was still a pink and there was a faint sheen on it. There were beads of sweat on her upper hp and she licked at them from time to time.
Jim cleared his throat and then he touched her hip. He pulled at the panty band, easing it away from her body and down a few inches. He repeated the process at her other hip and he moved back and forth, lowering one side and then the other, time after time until the pants barely clung to the plumpness of her upper thighs.
He stepped back and examined her crotch. The belly was exposed and so were the first of the pubic hairs, the top of her blonde thatch. They puffed out stiffly but below he knew they were not so stiff. There he could see the faint darkness through the pants, right over her pussy. There she was damp herself and the hairs were collecting the moisture.
He blew out his cheeks and listened to Scott's chuckle of approval once more. "Exquisite, simply exquisite," the bank president murmured in some awe, as though he were seeing the Hope diamond for the first time. "Do go on."
Jim rolled the pants now, standing behind Joyce and working at both hips at the same time. The pants went down and he watched the cheeks of her buttocks creep into view. The crack under his gaze grew longer and longer as the sheer material yielded to his urging.
Then the pants were down to her thighs and she was open, exposed. Again Scott called for a halt and he sighed. "See? It's the same thing all over again, only better. She's still the trapped prisoner, unable to run because the panties would trip her up. She's at my mercy. God, how I love power like that. It beats making a million-dollar deal at the bank. Drive on, James."
Jim rolled the pants down below her knees and she shifted her feet when they were on the carpet so that he could move them completely out of the way. He tossed them on the chair where the bra, the blouse and the stretch pants already lay. Her shoes were tucked neatly under the chair. It was as though she'd undressed herself in a doctor's office.
She continued to pose, completely naked at last, and both men leaned back to admire their subject. Jim was still ready to explode and he had to turn away from the sight of his wife, now so helpless, so appealing, so exposed to assault from a virtual stranger.
Jim wondered just how sick he was. Christ, should a man get steamed up by seeing his own wife being mentally raped by a virtual stranger? He knew he was anticipating it, even though the rational civilized side of his nature was repelled.
Perhaps it was a variation of the swapping theme that Scott and Sally had espoused. They preached that variety was good for the sex glands, good stimulation. Well, this was certainly a variation from their familiar theme. Jim never had dreamed that he could be turned on this way.
Scott was gurgling quietly, deeply in his throat. He began to stand and then he thought better of it. He lifted a damp hand to Jim.
"How firm is the woman? I'm not certain about that yet. Put your hands on those breasts. Move them around. I want to know how they jiggle."
Jim touched Joyce's breasts, placing his hands under them and lifting. He let go and they jiggled tightly. He pushed them together and let them bounce apart. Her nipples were sizzling under his touch, but her body never wavered in its stance and her eyes didn't blink.
"Tell me how they feel, lad."
Jim coughed. "Well, they feel just fine. Very hot, and heavy. The nipples are hard, little two pebbles."
"Wonderful. You have a flair for description. Now touch her in a few other places. Take your choice, unless you want me to tell you every move."
Jim eyed Scott, who was still sweating. His T-shirt was damp and he wondered if the man had had any orgasms yet. He'd certainly been working himself over behind the desk in some fashion. Weird, thought Jim. He could have been screwing Joyce and instead he wanted to watch.
Jim looked at Joyce. She was still a statue, although she'd become a statue close to panting like a puppy. Never before had he spent so much time working her up, getting her ready. At least he'd learned something already. He knew how to make his wife hot-unless it was the presence of Scott which was contributing to her passion.
He ran his hands down her belly and her flesh heaved under his hands. The belly button was sucking in and out like the mouth of some sea creature and when he stuck his finger into it he half expected it to pull his hand into her body. Scott was murmuring words of encouragement now, muttering like a man possessed.
His fingers crept around her hips and touched her buttocks, those cheeks that had always been one of her real passion places. He ran his hand lightly, whisperingly, up and down her crack and she shuddered. The hairs around her cunt darkened and he knew she was experiencing a mild orgasm. The way her knees quaked told him she was close to collapsing.
He got away from her ass, because he didn't want her to lose control altogether. Not so soon. Scott might be angry and call off the deal. So he touched her on the lower belly and his fingers patted the matted hairs. She gasped and again he whipped his hands away.
He dropped them to her ankles, squatting before her in supplication. Slowly Jim moved his hands up , her legs. What terrific long legs they were, slim in the ankles, knees with real dimples in their centers, thighs that were firm and plump, squirming now like the flanks of a nervous mare as her muscles jumped in spasms.
Jim admired his wife, because she was holding up very well, resisting mightily what must have been a strong urge to fall to her back and pull him down on top of her. But she was being faithful, holding herself back because she knew it was her role to please the boss. Something for the boss. Something very special that was being saved for him alone.
"Up, up," Scott ordered. He seemed to be working to control himself now. Perhaps he was about to go off and he was holding it back. His hands were back on the desk, fiddling with a letter opener.
Jim slid his hands higher. He roamed her thighs and then he could hear Joyce breathing, breathing in short gasps and he took his hands away.
"I don't think I can string it out much longer," Jim said. He made it sound like an apology.
"Come as close as you can, man. I want her to sizzle."
Jim licked his lips as he studied her. Then he got up to stand behind her and he rubbed her back, slowly working in large circles that dipped lower and lower until he was brushing the small of her back and the very top of the crack in her buttocks. He skimmed over her cheeks several times before she at last moved.
Her hand gripped his wrist. "No more," she whispered. "No more, or I'll have to scream."
"So," Scott boomed, standing and rubbing his hands together. "The statue lives and breathes. The statue has nerves that can be driven crazy."
Jim stood back, somehow feeling that his role was finished. Indeed, Scott pointed to a chair and Jim at once went to sit in it. He could feel his soggy crotch as he walked and so he moved carefully. The trigger could be pulled by the slightest jarring.
Scott came around the desk and together Joyce and Jim looked down. His fly was open and the front of his bermuda shorts was stained. He apparently hadn't gone off, but he'd secreted generously.
The bank president stood before her, hands on his hips, and he looked triumphant. "Now I'm sure you aren't an iceberg. In fact, I could have gotten you as hot as this a hell of a lot faster than this ninny." He angled his head toward Jim. "This is going to be a cinch-every time."
Jim watched as he walked around her and he almost touched her once or twice, but he kept his hands in check. How long would he keep on playing his little game.
"Tour husband undressed you. Now you can do the same for me. Get going."
Slowly, Joyce shook her head. She was hot but she was still able to think, to reason.
Scott raised his eyebrows. "All right. You want to call it off? I don't think you really do, but we can go back to the way we were when you walked in here. Remember, our little deal called for you to perform all the way for me at least once. After that, I'll make out on my own merits." He chuckled. "Hell, I probably could have made you fair and square anyhow, but I don't like to bang an employee's wife without paying for the privilege."
Joyce glanced at Jim, but she wasn't really looking at him, wasn't asking for his final permission. Jim got the feeling that she had to go all the way with this man whether any prize was involved or not.
She cleared her throat and then she lifted her hands. Slowly she pulled the T-shirt out of his shorts. The garment was soggy with his sweat and Jim could smell his body. It was an odor of mixed sweat and sex. She lifted the shirt up over his hairy chest as Scott raised his arms. He had a generous belly that was hairy and it turned to a black mat on his chest.
Scott nodded as she tossed the garment aside. "Very good. You don't need any prodding. Your husband saw to that. I guess he did his job well after all."
She knelt and the sight of his beautiful wife, on her knees, untying this man's tennis shoes was almost more than Jim could bear. He was revolted and angry, but at the same time he become hotter than ever. It was like watching a queen undress a street urchin. Strange, sick sex, but Jim had to admit that the sight was very sexy.
He kicked away one shoe and then the other, his bare toes curling to grip the carpet. The front of his shorts were poked out as though he had a tent pole inside. She went to the center of his waist and, working deftly with her long slim fingers, she opened the button. The shorts sprang apart and in a split second his prick had whipped through the gaping crotch and was waving around the room like an escaped rattlesnake.
Scott's eyes rolled as he rested a hand against the comer of the desk. Joyce stepped back, her eyes fixed on the snake. It was huge, perhaps eight inches long, and thick and it was a deep pink on the shaft. The knob was almost purple, so choked was it with blood and jizz that was aching to be exploded.
Jim himself felt an orgasm start in his own pants and he pressed his thighs together, pinching his rock-like prick to choke it off. He squirmed in his spectator's chair.
At last Scott looked at Jim, then at Jim's naked wife, and finally down at his gaping shorts. "All right, my dear. Now you can really earn your hubby that raise," he muttered.