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Hypocrisy and Other
Women
Claire was pissed, and someone was
going to pay. The source of her
frustration, as it was for so many other middle aged woman, was her
husband. Fifteen years ago, when they
had first gotten married, she had deep reservations about leaving college and
becoming a housewife, but Brad had convinced her that as his law career took
off he could support them both, so there was no reason to put off having
Children. Claire had been hesitant, not
because she doubted Brad would make an excellent lawyer, but because she wasn’t
sure if she was ready to tie herself down with a family and no college
degree. Still, the dashing lawyer had
been so persistent and charming that even Claire’s mother had approved of him,
so Claire cast hesitation to the wind and said yes. Seven months later (they had jumped the gun a
bit, another example of Brad’s charisma trumping Claire’s reservations) the
couple was blessed with their first, and only, child; a girl they named Jessica.
At first it was like a dream come
true for Claire. Brad had been top of
his class in law school, so a job was easy to find, and his parents had taken
care of all their outstanding debt as well as getting them a nice house. All Claire had to worry about was the
happiness of Jessica (who, to be fair, had been quite a handful) and what to
wear to the next party they would attend.
The fairy tale lasted for a good seven years before reality
started seeping through. Brad wanted
sex, and not just good ol’ wholesome mom and pop sex, but weird sex. Claire had no
idea how a man who claimed to love her could even think about doing some of the things he suggested. For the first time in their relationship,
Brad wasn’t able to win Claire over.
Despite all the gifts, candle lit dinners and alcohol there was no way
that Claire was about to let him take a whip to her.
At last, Brad simply gave up. Claire had counted it a victory; after all, a
good marriage had to be based on mutual respect, and she had both kept Brad
from just steamrolling her and stopped him from using her as a sex object. Sure, the sex stopped for a bit, but Claire
was sure he would grow up and come back to bed sooner or later. He hadn’t, and soon the frigidity between the
sheets began seeping into the rest of their relationship.
As Brad became more and more
distant Claire began to think about leaving, but there was too much tying her
down. Brad was an expert lawyer with
innumerable friends in the legal community, so there was no way she could get
full custody of Jessica. Besides, what
would she do without Brad to support her?
She didn’t have the education for a good job, and she knew she couldn’t
be happy as a 35 year old burger flipper.
She had been a part time model once, and she toyed with the idea of
starting up again, but it was only a pipe dream. Sure, she had kept the “toned and tanned”
body Brad liked so much, and genetics was still kind enough to grant her full
lips, sparkling green eyes, good curves and silky blond hair, but time had made
up for that kindness. Maybe it was
stress of her failing marriage, maybe it was inevitable, but the results were
the same either way. Soft lines had
etched themselves on her face, from the inevitable crow’s feet to wrinkles at
corners of her lips, reminders of her once common smile and flecks of gray
cropped up around her temples. Maybe
some make up and dye could solve those problems, but who would want to go
through the extra effort for a barely experienced model when there were bevies
of pretty young things who would undoubtedly have a better shelf life. So modeling remained a fantasy and Claire
remained Brad’s wife.
Claire had
enough material comfort to numb the pain of her sham marriage with alcohol and
anti-depressants, but even those panaceas had their limits. Slowly but surely Claire had become convinced
that Brad was having an affair; first she dismissed it as simple paranoia, but
the mounting evidence eventually made her suspicious, then certain. It wasn’t just that Brad lasted so long
without sex (Lord knew that the internet had a enough….material…catering to
Brad’s sick fantasies), it was also the late nights, the occasional smudges of
lipstick and makeup he failed to wipe off himself and so on. So she started snooping through Brad’s
things, and sure enough she found a hastily scrawled note in his suit pocket
reading “New Cell: 555-4592, Love, Katy”.
And that is why she was pissed.
Oh sure, she had had her own indiscretion, but it had been a one time
fling and she had been sure never to see the young man again in order to
preserve her marriage. Brad, however,
had obviously been with this hussy long enough for her to have gone through a
cell phone! She wondered if this little
tramp let him do all those…things…to her that Brad had wanted to do to Claire,
or whether Brad managed to keep the sex relatively decent! One way or another, this “Katy” was getting a
call.
Claire
stormed across the room to the nearest phone ad began pounding in numbers so
hard some part of her imagined the poor little plastic box breaking in
two. As the rings began Claire paced as
far as she could, while still tethered to the damn land line…she really should
have called on her cell, or at least on the wireless! After what seemed like an eternity (probably
more like 5 rings) someone finally picked up.
“Hey Brad,
guess what I’m not wearing!” said a pleasant female voice, punctuated by a
suggestive giggle.
“This isn’t
Brad,” Claire responded, her voice quivering with barely contained anger. She knew that just yelling at this woman
would not get her anywhere, but she honestly had no words right now, just
hatred of the disembodied voice that was apparently semi-nude on the other end
of the line.
“Oh God…”
the answer was barely a whisper, and the bitch dared to feign sympathy. “Listen, Claire…”
Suddenly
some plank in her reason broke, and Claire found herself gripping the receiver
with white knuckles as she screamed into it.
“Listen,
you fucking two bit whore, I don’t know who the fuck you are or where the fuck
my husband puts his cock in your skanky ass body, but I won’t have you calling
me Claire like some grade school friend of mine!”
Claire was just getting started,
although she could not quite figure out why her vision was so blurry. Shit,
she was crying! She could feel her body
quake with each sob as she hurled obscenities into the phone, devoid of any
comprehensible meaning, and soon so slurred even the individual curses were
impossible to determine. She had worked
so hard for the marriage to be something,
to work on some level, and the girl
who had screwed all that up had to sit there and try to be nice about it!
After Claire got herself under
control for a few seconds, tears still streaming down her beautiful face and
her body still quivering, feeling almost empty now that she had spewed her
anger at the voice…at Katy…on the other end of the line, Katy’s voice returned,
timidly poking out like a soldier about to cross a mine field.
“I’m sorry…maybe…maybe we could go
somewhere and…I don’t know, I’m sorry.”
Claire’s lips parted to respond,
but she had nothing. Katy’s voice was a
little shaken, had she been crying like Claire?
She knew how persuasive Brad could be, maybe they should talk, after all, if Katy came forward it would probably help in
the divorce which was now definitely going to happen. Biting her lip and swallowing her pride and
hurt, Claire reached out.
“I guess it could not hurt,
where? When?”
The meeting was set at a bar
downtown, and Katy said, a bit sheepishly, that she would recognize
Claire. Claire so no reason to object,
and so with a goodbye that was a bit icier than strictly necessary, put down
the receiver.
***
Had Claire known what the bar was
going to be like, she probably would have had some objections. She had dressed nicely; in a crisp green
jacket with black embroidery that set over her eyes over a silky white blouse
with a knee length black skirt sand some sandals, with makeup to hide the
effects of her earlier hysteria. In part
it was because all of her clothes were very nice, as suited her social station,
and in part it was because she wanted to emphasize to this girl that she was
not some deranged housewife hanging on to sanity by the last thread. No matter the reason, it was definitely above
the standards of this dive, as the eyes following her from all across the room
attested. The few men she did spot
wearing suits had their ties undone and their shirts open to halfway down their
chests, and most of the girls had even less class…they looked like common
hookers, except for one she recognized.
Claire’s
jaw tightened and her stomach seemed to float for a second as she recognized
Katy sitting at the bar, laughing as she set down a drink, her delicate hand
resting on the shoulder of a buxom obviously died red head in a tube top and
miniskirt, looking less like she was regretting having to face up to her
behavior than she was enjoying a night out on town. It made Claire furious, not only because
whatever guilt Katy had shown over the phone was obviously faked, but because she
had actually liked the young, slightly tipsy paralegal she had met at last
year’s Christmas party. She had been
rather charmed by the young Chinese woman, who had given a rather rambling
story of her career path, from graduating summa cum laude in finance to
realizing that she could not finance her own law education, to deciding to work
as a paralegal. And in that whole
speech, not a single hint that she would steal a man from his wife. Claire bit her lip so hard she was half
afraid it would bleed, then strutted across the room to the little slut feeling
like a cat with its back arched.
Despite
herself, Claire wondered hat Katy had that she didn’t. Oh sure, she was cute enough, in that Asian
way, her silky black hair framing a round face, her skin that nice golden tan,
full pouty lips and large oriental eyes.
Claire was woman enough to admit that, and the black pinstriped suit and
white blouse she was wearing were very flattering to her lithe physique and
long legs, and Claire was sure those pumps would show off her hips and ass
nicely, but still, she had almost no tits!
She looked like a little girl!
But that was probably what Brad saw in her, he didn’t want a real woman
who would say no, he wanted a little Asian fuck doll Geisha girl who was
probably eager to bang her way into law school no matter what Brad wanted to
do…
Claire was
broken out of her mental tirade when she ran out of floor to cross. She was so close she could smell Katy’s
perfume, something surprisingly subtle considering her activities, and see the
way her back curved under the suit as she leaned in close to the woman she was
talking to as though she was about to…
Feeling
awkward suddenly Claire loudly cleared her throat. Katy spun around on the bar stool and smiled
pleasantly up at a now very cross looking Claire. Something about her posture just oozed
condescension and Claire swore she would be a mass of cramps tomorrow from the
way she tightened up.
“Glad to
see you made it, even if you are a bit overdressed,” Katy’s voice was chatty,
but beneath it Claire could hear the not so subtle sneer beneath it.
Claire was
tempted to slap the bitch, but she decided against it on legal grounds, opting
instead to lean in close and pull at one of her lapels.
“You’re one
to talk, and at least I am not the tramp that frequents these places,” Claire hissed, making a broad wave with
her hand, oblivious to the hush that had fallen across the room and the few
whispers of “cat fight”. Katy just kept
on smiling.
“As much as
I am sure you enjoy verbally abusing me, I am guessing you are here about a
divorce? After all, a verifiable act of infidelity can change everything in a
divorce hearing.”
Claire’s jaw tightened so hard she was afraid it would
snap, but for the second time that day she swallowed her pride for a favorable
settlement, and sat down in the stool next to Katy, clasping her hands in her
lap, in part so you could clench them together if the urge to slap this girl
became overpowering. As it became clear
that nothing was going to happen, most of the patrons returned to their drinks.
“So you are willing to testify, then?” Claire asked,
doing her best to keep her tone civil.
Katy smiled as she took another sip of her drink, then
turned and rifled through a purse sitting on the bar, taking out a few
photographs. It figured that Brad would
take pictures of them doing it; he was that kind of pervert, though why Katy
was so eager to help when she clearly felt no remorse was a bit confusing. Maybe she was sick of sharing Brad
herself. Claire took the pictures and flipped
them over…
…and immediately felt sick. They were not of Brad and Katy, but of Claire
and the young man (what was his name?) that she had her own affair with, so
long ago. In the first, his head was
between Claire’s thighs, Claire’s fingers tangled in his hair as she reared up
(oh God his tongue had been so good!), in the next it was her turn to give….and
they seemed endless, like the scene selection off one of those porn DVDs she
knew Brad hid in his study, each documenting a new act or position.
Katy took another sip, and continued in that
oh-so-pleasant conversational voice.
“Those aren’t the only copies, of course. With those, you would be lucky to get the
time of day from Brad in court, much less custody or a decent settlement. Pity you could not keep you pants zipped!” Katy finished with the same giggle she
thought she had used on Brad earlier, an almost girlish chuckle.
So this was the end of her marriage, and she was the one
who got shafted. All she had wanted was
some normal, honest-to-God sex instead of something bordering on spousal abuse,
and now she would be left high and dry.
She couldn’t cry, not in front of this whore, not in front of all these
people, she couldn’t cry!
“There there,” said a now blurry Katy, brushing some hair
away from Claire’s face. Claire pulled
back, some part of her brain musing about how she probably looked like a
petulant child.
“Suit yourself,” Katy said
glibly, giving a little shrug. “I am
terrible at sympathy anyways.”
Claire’s sudden outburst attracted a fair amount of
interest, most of it curious about 1) why she was crying and 2) if the onlooker
in question could use this opportunity to get into her pants. Katy decided to resolve that second question
by clearly claiming Claire as hers. The
guys at the bar knew better than to encroach on her space after she had made it
clear she had some mace by way of demonstration. She stood up, calmly paced behind the
distraught woman, and began giving her a shoulder massage, feeling the tension
and smoothing it out, feeling the soft flesh under Claire’s clothing and
coaxing it to relaxation. Katy leaned
over, giving the other bar goers a good look at her rump as she paused to take
a deep whiff of Claire’s hair before leaning bending a bit further, to that her
lips hovered right by the poor woman’s ear.
“He wanted to just dump you, but I did not want to see
you go to waste,” as whispered into Claire’s ear, her hands slid over Claire’s
shoulder onto the slope of her breasts.
Claire shivered, and stopped crying, sorrow overwhelmed by fear…to
afraid of those pictures to stop the lewd display she knew Katy was using her
for. Katy’s hands somehow found the
exact spot of her nipples despite the bra, and began to drag around them in
slow, obscene circles. “Despite some
wear and tear, you’re still a bit of a looker and I know that there is a bit of
fire in you, he just failed to coax it out.”
With that Katy simultaneously pinched Claire’s nipples
through her cloths and flicked her tongue along the contours of Claire’s ear, sending
an involuntary shudder through the housewife.
Claire was certain it was revulsion, but Katy knew how to read a girl
better and proceeded with practiced efficiency, deftly unfastening the first
button, letting her thumb graze along Claire’s cleavage, then Katy moved onto
the next button, being sure to go slowly, to make sure Claire was aware of what
she was doing, and of course to let her caress the supple skin. Claire’s hands tightened in her lap and she
pressed her thighs together. She knew
what Katy was after, and she felt Katy’s delicate, ephemeral touches as much
between her legs as on her chest and belly as Katy’s hands continued down,
tickling at the top of her pelvic bone, her arms wrapped around Claire in a
crude embrace, openly kissing the side of Claire’s throat.
“That’s
it…relax and just enjoy what you have to do,” Katy cooed.
Claire’s lips parted and a small squeak escaped
them. Katy’s hands moved with grace at
the cue, one sliding beneath the cup of Claire’s bra while the other slid past
the band of her skirt, then bother sought out the most sensitive, needy flesh
and began to caress it delicately, the slightly rough pads of her finger tips
carefully sliding along Claire’s aureole and labia, the pressure increasing so slowly
but steadily.
Claire couldn’t help it, she moaned. The next thing the new she felt the warmth of
Katy’s body pressing into her in earnest, nibbling at her ear lobe as she
punched the Claire’s plump, stiffening nipple between her thumb and forefinger.
“All those eyes are on you…even the bar tender, and I
paid him to give us a bit of space,” Katy’s voice wasn’t chatty any more; it
had a sultry, throaty quality to it. As
Claire arched her neck to look around the room, she saw Katy’s words were
true. Every man was looking at them,
some openly masturbating, and the women seemed torn; some showed obvious
disdain, others, like the red head who still sat two stools over, looked as
lustful as their male counterparts.
Claire clenched her eyes shut, even as she sucked in a sudden breath at
Katy’s skilled ministrations. “Any one
of them would be glad to fuck you, and if you let them maybe you wouldn’t need
Brad’s money. Then again, if you weren’t
so tight with your cunt things would be a lot better with Brad.”
Claire was near panting, her hips began to slide against
the chair and Katy’s fingers, desperately seeking that contact…She bit her lip
as the rolled back her shoulders. If
this had to happen, she might as well enjoy it…it had been so long since she had
an orgasm. Suddenly Katy stopped,
standing behind Claire and resting her hands on the now very flushed, confused
woman.
“Unh,” was all Claire managed through her haze.
“Glad you are warming up to the idea,” Katy teased,
giving Claire’s shoulders a little squeeze.
“Brad likes me to find good women for him. He’ll be happy to know you actually bit this
bate, we’ve been leaving little hints for you quite a while now, but your not
the brightest.”
Claire was coming down enough off her sexual high that her
red tinge was as much blush as flush, and she swallowed, staring at her lap,
too ashamed to look up.
“Now, I was considering Candi here as a substitute, it’s
a pseudonym I’m sure, but now I suppose I have you for free!” Katy did that
noxious little giggle again, and Claire slouched in her seat, feeling her
defeat sink in to the pit of her stomach.
“Still, I am curious about what she would have been like.”
Katy gave Claire’s shoulders another squeeze, and then
smiled at the lascivious hooker. “Candi,
why don’t you demonstrate your skills on this fine woman?”
Claire craned her neck over her shoulder to stare at Katy
in wide eyed horror. Now that she had
cooled down a little, she realized she was in a public place, and was about to
be molested by some street walker. She
pulled her blouse closed and kept hunched over, trying to hide from the world.
“Katy, please!
Don’t do this…don’t make me do this!”
The grin on Katy’s face was one of the coldest, cruelest
things Claire could imagine.
“Remember those pictures….I won’t let you talk to me like
some grade school friend of mine!” Katy didn’t giggle, as far as Claire could
tell she cackled like some diabolical villain.
“Speaking of which, what can I call you since you decided ours would not
be a first name relationship? Hmm? I know!”
Katy perked up as she grabbed Claire’s shoulders, her
fingers digging in roughly as the pulled back on Claire’s shoulders, and Claire
yielded, releasing her blouse and leaning back, open, exposed, offering herself
to pay off this blackmailer. Candi
parted Claire’s legs obscenely, hiking up her skirt in the process. All around, cheers were going up with some of
the guys chanting “Lesbo show!” Katy
grabbed the cups of Claire’s bra and pulled sharply down, letting them spill
out, then leaned in next to Claire yet again, tonguing her ear as her hands
enveloped Claire’s tits, the fingers expertly working the tender swells. Then she whispered one dagger sharp word:
“Slut”.
As Claire’s lips parted to respond, Candi slid the crotch
of her panties to the side and she took one long, slow lick from the bottom of
Claire’s slit to the top, swirling it around the nub waiting for her at the
top. The fire that Katy had kindled in
Claire came roaring back to life and Claire’s words were lost to the half howl,
half moan that tore out of her throat instead.
Between Katy’s kisses and caresses, and Candi’s tongue, Claire did not
last long. That tongue was honing in on
her most sensitive parts, Candi’s fingers holding her wide open. Katy’s thumbs flicked over her nipples before
she palmed poor Claire’s breasts again.
Claire felt it build in her, like the ocean pulls back before a huge
wave, the sensation of both of the other
women’s tongues, hands and bodies, their warmth, their touch, all coalescing to
one great explosion. Little pleading
grunts were the only sound she could make soon…
“Stop!” Katy barked, and Candi
seemed to snap back. The peanut gallery
mixed between cheers and pleas for the fun to continue, but Katy was not
swayed.
“Huh!” Again, Claire was unable penetrate the haze of
lust with words.
“Well, I’ve decided to have a little mercy,” Katy
explained in a patronizing voice. “You
said not to do that, so I won’t.”
“Please!” Claire moaned, her own hand snaking between her
thighs.
Before Claire even knew what was happening, she felt
blinding pain and was looking sideways.
Katy hand slapped her, hard.
“Don’t you dare touch yourself, slut,” Katy hissed. Then, in a gentler tone, “I am impressed
Candi, that was quick. Walk her back to
her car, make sure she doesn’t button up, and meet me at the place we
discussed. Oh yeah, and don’t let her cum.”
Katy ruffled her new found toys hair, “There will be time
for that later.”
With that, Katy pivoted on her heel and exited the bar to
whistles and cat calls of the enthusiastic crowd. Claire felt the tears begin to slide down her
cheeks, her body betraying her, showing her weakness and craving further
exploitation. She gave a pleading glance
to the hooker, who just smiled and used her finger to trace the swell of
Claire’s tit…
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