Chapter 1
"Hey, don't I get a kiss?" Suzanne said as her husband rushed into the house and breezed right past her. She followed him into the bedroom and said, "Dinner is almost ready."
"No time," Chad said as he opened the closet door and snatched his suitcase off the top shelf.
"Where to this time?"
"Tucson, quarterfinals of the regional bowling tourney. Hank and I have a good chance of making it all the way this time."
"When are you going to stay home at least one night a week so we can spend some time together?"
"Hey, look babe, you're a good wife. Don't go spoiling it by biting my ass. You know I can't miss this tourney."
"You don't need a wife, you need a maid. A good wife takes care of her husband's sexual needs along with the housework."
"Hey, baby, you take care of my sexual needs. I don't like sex that much anyway." He closed the lid of his suitcase and snapped the locks. "I've got to run, or I'll be late, and Hank gets pissed if I'm late."
"I suppose you don't care if I get pissed when you run off all the time."
"Hey, I told you, don't start."
"When will you be back?"
"Sometime Monday, probably late."
He left without kissing her, which wasn't a surprise, and she ate dinner at the candlelit table by herself, then took a bath and dressed.
A couple hours later, she sashayed into the upscale pub looking and feeling like a million dollars in a soft, black silk blouse unbuttoned halfway to her navel, a black silk miniskirt, sheer black hose and black pumps with spike heels.
If her husband didn't find her desirable enough to fuck, there were plenty of guys, and girls, who did and she wasn't going to sit home, pining her life away.
She stopped just inside the door and looked around. The crowd was light for Friday night, and George was easy to find. He had her problem in reverse, this was his favorite hangout and he was right where he was supposed to be, so she wouldn't have to cast her bait in another spot. He had been trying to get in her pants for months, but he was a friend of Chad's, and she wouldn't let him get to first base. But that was past tense. Tonight, he was going to get his wish, and she wasn't wearing panties, so it was going to be easy.
As she sauntered across the room, her unfettered tits jiggling enticingly and her shapely legs flashing, George glanced at her. She looked directly at him and smiled seductively, and he nearly fell off his chair.
"Hello, George," she said casually as she pulled out a chair and sat down. "You won't find the answer to your problem in the bottom of a bottle, you know."
He jumped up so fast he knocked his chair over and fumbled with it to get it upright. "Suzanne, hello, this is the last place I expected to see you."
"I know. Will I cramp your style if I join you? Are you waiting for someone?"
"No, you won't cramp my style, as you put it. I'm all alone, and I expect to stay that way."
"Yeah, pickings are pretty slim tonight."
"I'm just killing time."
"Yeah, sure you are, George. We both are."
He stared at her as if he couldn't believe she was really there. "My God, you look good. Breathtaking even, positively seductive. Guess I shouldn't say that about my buddy's wife, huh?"
"Oh, come on, George," she said with amusement, "we both know you've been trying to get in my pants for months. That I'm Chad's wife hasn't made any difference before, so why should it make any difference now?"
"Why are you here, Suzanne?"
"Of all the gin joints in the world, why did I have to pick this one?" She chuckled sexily, and saw the hair on his arms stand up. "Do you remember that line from the movie, George? I'm here because I was pretty sure you would be here."
"You're playing with me."
"Not yet, but I'd like to. You're a handsome, virile man, and it pleases me that you find me attractive."
"Ravishing is closer to the truth." He swallowed hard. "I'm forgetting my manners. Would you like a drink?"
"Black Jack and water, over rocks."
Suzanne regarded her him with a coy smile as he waved the cocktail waitress over and ordered. She remembered what Faith Harwell said about him, and felt warm juice flood her pussy.
"Okay," he said, "let's suppose I believe that you want to play with me, I still don't know why you turned me down in the past, then suddenly come looking for me."
"In the past, I was afraid word would get back to Chad. Then I had a little chat with Faith Harwell, and realized that you're in no position to kiss and tell any more than I am. If word got back to Gladys, she'd leave you and take her money with her."
"Gladys isn't as bad as you think," he said.
"Oh, George, don't ever try to bullshit me. Gladys wouldn't say pussy if she was talking about a cat. Where is she right now, getting ready for bed, with her hair in curlers and some repulsive, evil-smelling goop all over her face?"
"Point taken," he admitted sheepishly. "She's probably already asleep. What's this about Faith? What does she have to do with anything?"
"Don't act innocent with me, George. I know all about your little trysts every Wednesday afternoon."
"What are you, a peeping Tom, or whatever a girl peeper is called?"
"I like to watch, but I don't hide in the bushes and peek through windows." She waited until the waitress brought her drink, then took a sip and looked at him over the rim with twinkling eyes. "Faith's pussy is pretty tight, but mine is tighter."
He nearly choked on his drink. "How would you know?"
"Because I've had my fingers and tongue in it, George."
This time, he did choke. He cleared his throat and looked at her with total disbelief. "She's isn't a lez," he muttered, then realized how inane it sounded. If she'd had her fingers and tongue in Faith's pussy, didn't that mean she was the lesbian? But she couldn't be a lesbian, she was married to Chad, and he would never do anything so goofy. "You just made that up to get me to admit that Faith and I have a thing going. Chad would never marry a lesbian."
"He didn't, George. Faith and I are bisexual. You know what that means, don't you, a worldly guy like you?"
"Right now, I don't know what I know," he said.
"We've talked long enough. Faith said that you're well-hung, but maybe she was just blowing smoke. I guess you aren't interested in finding out if my pussy really is tighter than hers, so I'll be on my way. Thanks for the drink."
"Wait," he said quickly. "Jesus, Suzanne, you're my buddy's wife!"
"Okay, pretend for a moment that I'm a girl you just met. I know you hang out here hoping to score a piece of ass, so think of me that way for a moment. I've been married to your buddy all the time you've known me, and you still wanted to fuck me, so what's the problem now?" She could tell her earthy language shocked him. She wanted it to, wanted to send him a strong signal. "Are you all talk and no action?"
He regarded her with astonishment, bewilderment, and more than a little interest. "I thought I knew you," he said quietly.
"You don't know me at all, George. Did you hit on me because you thought you wouldn't score and just wanted to have a little fun? Did you think it was just a little harmless flirtation, and now you're afraid to take what I'm offering?"
"Are you making a pass at me?"
She chuckled sexily. "Do you want me to draw you a picture? Are you interested?"
"God, Suzanne, even if I were.. . " He took a sip of his drink, then cleared his throat. "How do I know you aren't playing a game with me?"
"Enough of this nonsense, George! If you don't find me desirable, say so, but don't give me bullshit about being your buddy's wife." She pulled her blouse open so he could see her tit. "Look at my nipple. Is it hard?"
"Jesus!" he muttered. He wanted to leaned across the table and lick the pretty bud. "Yes, but it could be from your blouse rubbing it."
She let her blouse fall back into place, turned toward him and spread her legs slightly. "Put your hand between my legs."
He reached under the table and put his hand on the inside of her thigh, and hesitated, afraid to reach higher, afraid she was leading him on.
She reached down, grasped his forearm, and pushed his hand higher.
"Touch my pussy," she said softly.
He extended his finger and lifted his eyebrows. "I expected pantyhose."
"I never wear them, and tonight I'm not wearing panties, either. You saw my hard nipple. If my pussy is wet, that means I'm not playing a game with you. You can find out for yourself easily enough."
"I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered as he put his finger in her hole.
Her heart beat so fast, she had trouble speaking. "Is it hot and wet?"
"like a lava pit," he sighed. He started to pull his hand away.
She grabbed his arm. "Not yet," she breathed. "There's a tawdry little motel a few blocks down the street that has water beds and mirrors and closed circuit X-rated TV. Will you take me there? I like to fuck in front of mirrors."
He yielded to the inevitable. He had to fuck her now, even if she had been his brother's wife. "Baby, I'll take you any place you want to go. But you have to let me have my hand back."
"If I must," she sighed, and released his hand. "Follow me in your car. I'm registered in room 12, back away from the street."
"Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you, already registering that way?"
"Honey, if it wasn't you, it would be somebody else just like you."
George shook his head, stood and slipped a twenty out of his money clip and waved it at the cocktail waitress. "Keep the change, honey. I'll see you in a couple days."
"Boy, you really scored big tonight," the waitress giggled. "I get off in ten minutes."
"Oh, honey, he's isn't going to spend the weekend with me. I'll have him worn out long before the sun rises in the morning." She smiled and patted the waitress on the cheek. "You look like a fun girl. If you go both ways, maybe I'll take you along next time."
"You're so sexy, I'd stand on my head for you! Have fun."
"I've got to be crazy," George muttered as he escorted Suzanne out of the pub and helped her into her car.
Suzanne chuckled. "Afraid you can't handle me?"
He stopped on the way to buy a bottle of chilled champagne, a plastic ice bucket, a bag of ice, and two plastic champagne goblets.