 |
|||
|
|
3
Email:
To: redwards2010@gmail
From: The Office of Brad Tomalin
Subject: call
619 433-8044 8 p.m. Friday our time
----------
Carol Edwards left the office early Friday. For over an hour after her telephone conversation with Ross the preceding night she hadn’t been able to get to sleep, and she wasn’t able to concentrate on work that morning. Fortunately nothing important required her attention.
Back at their condo on the crest of Point Loma, overlooking the city skyline and San Diego Bay, she mixed a martini and ran a bath. She seldom drank during the day; but this was not an ordinary day.
She leaned back in the tub. Was she really going to do this?
Nipples and toes were islands. Her hands started to slide down her body, then stopped. Brad had told her not to masturbate. He wanted to watch her explode into orgasm as the first of many strangers fucked her. She hadn’t come since last Sunday. She would explode.
He had said she would come that weekend more than she even wanted to. That she would be fucked senseless. Literally. What would that be like? To come and come and come. To be unable to stop coming. To be fucked into oblivion.
She raised her hands from the water and reached for the martini glass on the wide tile ledge beside the sunken tub. She didn’t want her hands on her body. She wanted men’s hands. And mouths. And cocks. Her thoughts paused. Cocks? Plural? She had never been with more than one man at a time, and not even that many men. Only eight, including Brad. She had no idea how many there would be tonight and tomorrow; or how long it would last. And once she was there, she would be completely in their power. What would it be like to be naked in a room full of strange men. Their hungry eyes on her like a pack of wild dogs. What would they do to her? Whatever they wanted. Anything they wanted. She doubted they would be gentle. Her pussy spasmed. The prospect was frightening and exciting.
She was tired of being in control. Of always doing the right thing. Of always doing what others expected her to. Of being the good daughter. The good student. The good architect. The good wife.
Martini finished, she stepped from the bath and dried herself, before going into the adjacent master bedroom to check her laptop. Nothing from Ross. She hadn’t really expected there would be. She wasn’t even sure she was disappointed there wasn’t.
Still trying to convince herself she hadn’t made up her mind, she returned naked to the bathroom and proceeded to shave the stubble from her pussy--no, she thought, cunt as Brad insisted--and from the crack of her ass. The position was awkward and obscene. She studied her puckered anus. Will total strangers be looking at that in a few hours? Not just looking. Spearing with their cocks. Filling with come. It did not seem possible. Everything seemed vaguely unreal; her life a reflection in a hazy mirror.
On those infrequent occasions when she painted her nails she did so only in light pastel shades. Yet on the way home from the office, she had stopped and bought bright red polish. Leaning over to reach her toes, her nipples brushed her thighs. Oh, God, she thought. Oh, god.
When she was finished, her fingers and toes seemed tipped with blood, as though she was preparing her body for sacrifice.
She applied a matching deep red lipstick to her mouth, and wondered how long that would last?
Perhaps the martini was responsible for the giggle as she slid open the doors to the walk-in closet and thought: at least I don’t have to worry about what to wear. She stepped into black high-heeled backless sandals because they would be easy to slip off. Ease of removal, she realized, was likely to become a priority in her choice of attire.
She considered making another martini, but decided not to. She didn’t want to be drunk. She wanted to be aware of everything. To feel everything. If she went. If… It had felt so good last Saturday night and Sunday morning with Brad, and so intense in his office Tuesday. She craved that intensity. She needed to feel fully alive again.
Pulling her Burberry trench coat from a hanger, she moved through the condo to the living room, where she sat on the sofa and gazed down at sailboats gliding across the bay far below. She and Ross had sat there side by side so often. Had made love there. Can I really do this? she asked herself yet again.
Time had moved unevenly for days. First it rushed, then it screeched to a halt and crawled. Now it crawled. Automatically she glanced down at her wrist, but she was not wearing a watch. Her eyes were drawn to her wedding ring, which Brad had insisted she wear. Men enjoy knowing they are trashing another man’s wife, he had said. ‘Trashing’ His exact word. She realized that he liked being crude with her, more crude than he naturally was, certainly more crude than he had been at the charity dinner before they danced or all this never would have happened. But did she really want to be trashed?
He had said that he wouldn’t let her be physically damaged, but that it would be a life altering experience. And she did want her life altered. Her beauty would not last forever and it was going to waste. She did not want to spend another weekend alone, watching tennis or a movie on television, and drinking too much.
Although she sat motionless, her stomach churned; and when she noticed that the digital cablebox display read 6:45, it did a backflip. For a moment she thought she was going to be ill. What if the elevator was held on another floor and she was seconds too late. In her mind she saw the back of his car disappearing back down the hill.
Panicked she threw on the Burberry and, fumbling with the belt, dashed for the door.
The elevator came in a few seconds and, feeling foolish, she found herself standing on the curb much too early.
A trench coat and high heels are not usual attire on San Diego’s almost invariably sunny evenings, and she felt conspicuous in a residential area of houses, other condominiums, apartments, eucalyptus trees, shrubs, grass, with the street looping up and over the ridge on which her building was poised. And after a few minutes, she became too hot, until a gust of wind blew beneath the coat and shockingly up between her naked thighs.
Without a watch she had no idea of the time. Surely it must be 7 by now. Maybe it is all a cruel hoax and he is sitting somewhere having a drink and laughing at the image of me standing here. Or maybe he’s caught in traffic. She was not carrying a cell phone, so he couldn’t call if he was. No cell phone. No watch. No money. No cash. Though she could have put them in a coat pocket. She knew that she had deliberately rendered herself helpless.
From behind her the sound of an opening door. She had hoped that none of her neighbors would see her, but she could not pretend not to notice. it was a small building, fifteen units, three each on five floors, and everyone knew everyone else. She turned and found the one she least wanted to see: Ravi, a small, skinny, twenty-something computer geek from India, who was always staring at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, particularly when she was in a bikini sunning herself by the swimming pool. He was accompanied by his small, ratty dog, and looked perplexed as he approached.
“Ah, Carol. You are expecting rain, is it?”
“No.” She couldn’t think of a plausible explanation, so didn’t offer any.
“It cannot be too cool for you.” His gaze trailed down to her bare legs and painted toes.
“I’m going to be out late and it will be cooler then.”
“I see. With a friend.”
“Yes.”
At 5’8” she was taller than he and looked over his head to where she willed Brad’s car to appear. She didn’t even know what kind it was.
“And Ross is in Singapore still?”
“Yes.”
He rattled on, his eyes darting over her, trying to penetrate the folds of her coat, until she wanted to scream.
Finally sounds of a car coming up the hill, and as she turned a silver Lexis pulled to a stop. Before she could get in, Brad stepped out. Somehow she didn’t think it was to open the door for her. He was wearing a dark blue short-sleeved knit shirt that stretched tight across his thick shoulders and light tan linen slacks. He was smiling. Ravi stared at him curiously.
“Well, what have we here?” Brad said.
“This is Ravi, a neighbor. He lives in the unit below ours.”
“I’m Brad, Ravi.” And he put out a hand that engulfed the slighter man’s.
‘Pleased to met you.” Ravi seemed suddenly to need to be somewhere else.
“As I drove up, I saw where you were looking and knew that you must be wondering about Carol’s coat.”
“No. Ah. That is yes. On such a pleasant night. When it will not rain, I think.”
“She is a beautiful woman, isn’t she?”
“Oh, yes. Everyone knows that. You cannot help but notice that.”
What is he doing, Carol wondered and then discovered.
“I asked her to wear it. She is naked underneath.”
“Oh, no!” said Ravi.
Oh, no! thought Carol.
“Oh, yes,” said Brad. And then instantly, as she knew he would. “Show him.”
“I can’t”
He just stood looking at her.
“Here?”
He still stood, smiling.
She was angry. Furious. I should turn and go back upstairs. Ross will return soon and we can go on. But her fingers moved as though of their own volition to the coat belt, and then to the top button, down to the next, until finally the last was undone and the coat fell open, revealing a narrow strip of white skin.
Ravi sucked in his breath. “Oh, My.”
“Show it all to him.”
Carol seemed to be viewing herself from a distance, from a point above and to the left, watching another woman from a window. She saw the woman’s hands pull the coat wide apart. What difference did it make if someone else saw her, if everyone else saw her.
“What is happening here?” croaked Ravi.
“I’m taking her to be gangbanged. Clothes aren’t necessary.”
“I don’t understand. Who are you?”
“You know what ‘gangbanged’ means?”
“Yes. She is going to have sex with many men, isn’t it?”
“It is. Lovely flesh. Bruiseable”
“Bruiseable?.”
“Great body. Great tits. Go ahead. You can touch.”
Hesitating, Ravi peered questioningly at Carol, who continued to hold her coat open, exposing herself like a flasher, and said nothing. But when his brown hand reached out and tentatively cupped her breast, she cringed.
“Oh, my. Oh, my.” Then gathering courage. “Can I participate?”
“No. The guest list is already full, though I suppose we could always make room for one more. Or,” Brad laughed, “Twenty.
“But everyone has to have a recent STD test. No rubbers. Flesh against flesh. Real holes filled with real cum.’
Carol winced as Ravi’s hand tightened.
“But I’ll tell you what. If you want, have yourself tested and send the results to me. Here’s my card. And I’ll give it some thought. Maybe something can be arranged.”
He talks about me as thought he owns me, Carol thought. As though my body is his. How can he be so sure of himself. Of me. But then look at me standing here.
“Close your coat. It’s time to go.”
And, surprisingly, he did hold the car door for her.
4
The sun was setting behind them, but it was still light as the Lexus reached the top of the on-ramp and merged with traffic heading east on Interstate 8. Pulling into a middle lane, Brad said, “Lose the coat.”
She didn’t even consider refusing. She had climbed on the merry-go-round and there was no getting off. No more decisions to be made. Just do whatever she was told.
“No. Let it fall to your waist. Keep sitting on it. I don’t want you to leak on the leather, though,” he laughed, “I expect that will be a greater problem on the ride back when you will be gaping.”
“The shoes, too?”
“Doesn’t matter. They don’t hide anything.”
She kicked them off. The plush carpet felt sensuous against the soles of her bare feet.
For more than a half hour they sped east. moving beyond the fringes of the city into the darkening desert. He didn’t talk, so neither did she.
She had been to Julian, but not often, and remembered that it took more than an hour. The first half on the Interstate; then the last on narrow, twisting state highway 79. She was surprised that the music coming from the multiple speakers was classical. Something Baroque she could not identify.
Night fell, and she stopped wondering if anyone in passing cars or trucks could see her. To be naked seemed natural. Her insides no longer churned. Now that it was decided, she was calm. Until just after they turned off the Interstate and the telephone rang.
A voice actuated system.
Brad said, “Hello, Ross.”
And she heard her husband’s voice.
“Where are you, you bastard? Is Carol there?”
“I’m in my car. According to the GPS precisely 21.54 miles from my mountain cabin. Would you like latitude and longitude? And yes, your wife is here.”
“Let me talk to her.”
“She can hear you. All she has to do is speak.”
“Carol?” His agony carried across an ocean.
Finally, “Yes.”
“What are you doing?”
There was no answer.
“Stop,” pleaded Ross. Then to Brad, “Let her go.”
“She is not captive. I didn’t kidnap her. All she has to do is ask and I’ll stop. Though how she’ll get home is problematic. Tell him what you’re wearing.”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not quite true.”
“What?”
“Your wedding ring.”
“He’s right. I’m naked except for my wedding ring. He insisted i wear it.”
“Carol, don’t do this. I’m pleading with you. Please don’t do this.”
“It’s too late.”
Ross started to say something, but Brad cut in. “Wait. There’s an old filling station up ahead where they still pump gas.” Then to Carol, “No. I didn’t tell you to pull up your coat.”
“Carol?”
“Forget it, Ross,” Brad continued. “At this very moment men are driving from all points of the compass to fuck your wife. East from San Diego. South from Los Angeles. West from Phoenix. North from El Centro. One guy might even fly down from Vegas. And you can’t do a thing about it.
“We are going to trash your wife., Ross. Totally. If she isn’t fucked by more men this weekend than any other woman on the planet, she’ll come close. For the next thirty-six hours or so, whatever you are doing, know that there is a cock inside her. Or two or three. She probably doesn’t even know what being airtight means, but in less than an hour she will be. She is never going to be the same. And she knew that when she got in my car. I’ve never known anyone else move so willing toward her own destruction. We are going to baptize the new Carol in come. Full immersion. Glazed from the tip of her delicate toes to the top of her beautiful head. I’ll send you a picture.”
As he spoke the Lexis came around a tight curve and he slowed and pulled into a tiny two pump station surrounded by pine trees. A gangly teenager slouched out. Ross lowered his window and that on Carol’s side of the car.
Bored, the boy mumbled, “What can I do for you?”
“Fill it with premium.”
Carol was stiff. Frozen. Suddenly it did matter who saw her.
The boy filled the tank, his mind a thousand miles away.
Coming back to Brad’s window, he said, “That’s $26.42.”
Brad handed him a credit card, which he took into the shack that posed as an office, without looking into the car. But coming out with the receipt, his glance passed over Carol, moved on, then returned in a classic double-take.
“What the hey?”
His eyes were glued to her bare shoulders and breasts, and as he neared the car, the rest of her nakedness.
Beside Brad, he leaned down. “What’s going on? What’s with her? Are you all right, lady?”
“Answer him.”
“I’m all right.”
“What’s going on?”
“Tell him.”
“He’s taking me to be gangbanged and clothes are not necessary.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, man.”
“And what’s even better,” said Brad, “is that she’s married and her husband is listening. Aren’t you Ross? Ross? Well, maybe he hung up.”
“Can I take a picture, No one will ever believe this.”
How old are you? I don’t want to corrupt minors.”
“19.”
“O.K. No, not through here,” as the boy pulled out his cell phone. “Go around to her side.” And to Carol, “Open your door.”
The boy said, “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Is this really all right with you?”
“Yes.”
He snapped a shot.
“Turn toward him. Put your feet up on the seat. Spread the lips open. Let him see it all.”
“Amazing. Awesome. Thank you. Thank you.”
“Enough,” said Brad.
And as they pulled away, “By tomorrow you’ll be an Internet star.”
|
|
|