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…

Women and Other Pussies

            Claire shuddered as Candi’s finger slipped off her breast.  For a tense moment, every nerve in Claire’s body was on edge, every nerve a brush away from going off, her lips parted just slightly and her mouth went dry.  Candi just smiled, reclining in her seat, her eyes roving over the housewife’s body with smug satisfaction.  Claire tried to be relieved, but she felt like a spring, compressed, ready to release, but held back, the pressure building more and more…

            “Wow, you are primed,” Candi observed dryly, taking a sip of the drink Katy had left behind, swirling it around for a moment, seeming lost in thought.  Claire swallowed, rolling her shoulders forward and staring intensely at her hands clasped in her lap, trying to disappear.  If she could have gotten any redder, she was sure she would have, but she already felt faint and doubted her heart could have pumped any more blood to her face.

            “Alright, time to go,” Candi said, rising to her feet and picking up her bag, a cheap knockoff.

            Claire took a few moments to collect herself, trying to get the resolve to face the leering crowd which had just witnessed her humiliation…maybe even just walk out; 35 year old burger flipper was better than…than this, whatever the hell it was.  Yeah, she thought, just button up and walk out, something will turn up.  Her mind was set, just take a deep breath and go…she started the breath, her chest rising as she gathered herself up and was about to get up when she saw the liquid hurling towards her face.

            “Gah!” Claire rubbed her face; the alcohol felt like it was burning her eyes out of their sockets.  Before Claire even know what was happening, she was jerked back by her hair, her blouse falling completely open, her tits thrust out for all the world to see, and even more terrifying, Candi’s  voice hissing in her ear.

            “Listen Mrs. High-And-Mighty-As-Fuck, I really don’t know what that Asian chick has on you, and I really don’t care, but its pretty obvious you won’t be dressing so classy if it gets out.  So if you think you are so much better than me, remember that the ONLY thing between you and begging me for a recommendation to a good pimp or Madame is me telling that girl not to let those pictures out, so don’t fucking try anything and don’t give me any shit.  When I say go, you go, got it?” Candi gave an extra tug at Claire’s hair for emphasis.

            Claire was terrified, her eyes shot open despite the pain, tears streaming down her face, her mouth open, spewing off incoherent apologies, and her fledgling resolve scampering off like a cockroach when the lights go on.  In truth, Candi even scared herself a little.  She had never known she had such cruelty in her.  Sure, some of her clients liked to spanked, but that was all in good fun.  Even when that Asian girl was giving this spoiled bitch her comeuppance, it had been someone else.  But now that Candi had hurt this cunt, and better yet terrified her, made her RESPECT Candi, and Candi was hooked.  How many rich assholes had she dealt with who lusted after her and wanted to fuck her brains out, but then pretended like they were straight arrow upstanding citizens when they walked out the door.   It took Candi a moment to realize how horny she was; normally sex was work, she got wet so John Doe could have his fun, but right now she was having a gush like a tsunami in her thong!

            Claire felt her head being jerked farther back, so far she lost her balance on the stool, her bum slid off of it so that she was not supported by the small over her back, her rump and shoulders hanging off on either end.  She strained her abs trying to get up to a position where she could right herself, but before she was even horizontal she saw one of Candi’s creamy thighs swing to the other side of her head, and Claire found herself staring up the black mini into a tiger striped thong.  As Claire’s brain was still trying to process what was happening Candi bent backwards, reaching behind her, groping for Claire’s hair.  Finding the silky mass, Candi stood straight up jerking Claire’s head into her crotch.

            “Lick it cunt!” Candi snarled as she ground her hips against the married woman’s face, the coarse material of the cheap thong grating over Claire’s nose and lips.   The rest of the bar goers had been caught of guard at first, but were now cheering and whooping for the free lesbian porn.

            Claire, for her part gagged and wretched, disgusted at the mere thought of another woman’s genitals only a flimsy piece of fabric from her face.  She writhed and twisted, inadvertently mashing her face into Candi’s cunt.

            “WOO!” Candi’ hollered, waving her arm in a parody of a lasso before slapping her hand down on Claire’s own pussy, making the housewife suddenly convulse, her nose pushing the strap of the thong into Candi’s quim, pussy juice seeping around the edges, dribbling onto Claire’s face and running with her tears, smudging her makeup.  Claire could hear the cheers of the crowd, muffled by the thighs covering her ears, and it made her sob anew, pathetically kicking and struggling.  Candi’s hand slid up her belly, the nails raking along her flesh, and then toying with the front of her thong.

            Candi raised herself up for one terrible second, and one crystal clear revelation pierced through Claire’s confusion.  She didn’t even scream, she just whimpered, terrified of this lunatic who could ruin her, as Candi  slid the crotch of her thong to the side, revealing her pussy.  The red, swollen labia and clit were slick with juices, they seemed too big, too bright to Claire, like a caricature of normal anatomy.  Then the pussy came down.

            “Lick bitch, or I will fucking end you,” was all Claire heard, she didn’t even think about Candi, or the crowd, only her fear, her panic, her racing pulse and scattered thoughts.  Lick!  She had to!  Claire’s tongue shot out of her mouth, lapping desperately, searching for a ward to appease that mad voice!  She felt the sparse hair that had evaded Candi’s shavi ng, then the salty viscous fluids of Candi’s cum.  She lapped at that desperately, Candi’s hands still pulling her hair, forcing Claire on, as though she could escape those grinding hips.

            Candi was moaning, grunting and bucking like a wild animal. At the clumsy tongue down there, but the bitch needed to learn how to really munch carpet!

            “Lick my clit!” she barked, slapping her hand down on one of the bitch’s exposed tits, eyeing it hungrily as it jiggled at the impact feeling this society snob nearly jump out of her skin.

            The sudden pain made more tears well up as Claire searched for the magic nub....Somewhere above the lips, her tongue moved up and up as Candi jerked her hair again, Claire’s nose was forced into the whore’s slit a second time.  Claire inhaled some of the prostitutes come and desperately snorted to get it out.  Then she fely it, the bulbous little protrusion poking out of its hood and rand her tongue over it.

            That was too much for Candi.  She felt every inch of her body explode into passion simultaneously, her whole body buckling for the force of the blast.  Her pussy felt like it had just had a seizure!  Claire meanwhile, felt a spurt of juices between her upper lips and nose, the run off dribbling over her, but the hipss kept shaking so she kept licking, too afraid to stop, the fear driving her to lap like a maniac, clumsily sloshing her tongue all about.

            Candi suddenly let go of Claire’s hair and took a step back, and with the sudden loss of support Claire lost her balance she had on the stool and rolled off onto her side, knocking the wind from her with an “umph”.  Candi took a few moments to compose herself, trying to catch her breath.  Her legs were still shaky from the orgasm, and she felt like she had just run a mile!  The crowd erupted into cheers.  Candi couldn’t help but grin as she looked down at the distraught woman cowering on the floor.  That bitch knew who the boss was now!  In fact, she was so caught up in the moment that it took a few second for her to remember that the girl…Katy, that was it, would probably be waiting on her.  Ah well, if Katy was pissed as all hell it would be worth it.

            “C’mon, lets go.  And no cleaning up!” Candi ordered, trying to get mean again.  It was hard in the aftermath of that.  In truth, Claire hadn’t even thought about cleaning up yet, she had just been worrying what Candi would do next.  Now that Candi mentioned it, she really wanted to wipe her face off, but was not about to risk the wrath of this woman.  Biting her lower lips she scrambled to her feet, her head bowed meekly, her hands folded, terrified that she might set the redhead off again.  Candi looked her over and grunted something that sounded like approval.

            “Alright, let’s go,” said Candi, beckoning with her hand as she turned and paced out of the room.  Claire followed her, giving timid little glances to the right and left as men and a few women made catcalls and whistles.  As she was about to walk out the door, she felt a hand slap her rump and give a little squeeze.  She stiffened, but other than that did not respond.  After all that had happened, she was too emotionally worn out to muster up anything for something that small.

            The night air was cool and fresh as they walked into the parking lot, and it calmed Claire a little.  There was a way out; she just had to think of it.

            “Earth  to bitch, which one is your car?” Candi demanded.  A startled Calire took a second to gather her thoughts, search the parking lot, and point to her vehicle, a sporty black Audi.

            “Alright, you’re driving, and drive carefully unless you want the cops to see you that way,” and with that that Candi set off to the vehicle.  Claire groped in a pocked of her jacket for the keys, and finding them followed the woman who had just raped her.  That’s what it had been, Claire realized, dread settling into her stomach, she had been raped.  And even worse, something made her stick her tongue out, and tentatively lick some of the dried fluid on her face, taking her back to the rush of terror and thrill…of raw feeling that she had not had in so many years.  She had almost forgotten what it felt like to be lost in emotion, not maintaining the dull dead comfort of a society woman.  It felt good.  And that - more than any violent prostitute, sadistic paralegal, or blackmailing husband - scared her.