Art showered and dressed with no appearance of urgency. Helen slipped facial tissues inside the crotch of her panties and followed her husband, slouching against the cabinet in the bathroom while he was in the shower and perching on a chair with her arms around her knees while he was dressing. He chuckled when she followed him from the bedroom.
"You going to stay like that?" he asked.
"Do you mind? I'm going to take a douche in a minute, but I'm not going to dress."
"Man alive! Go douche, then!" He slapped her butt. "And hurry!"
While she was in the bathroom, she heard the telephone. When she returned to the living room, Art was grinning.
"Hey, guess what, sugar? That was Van on the line."
"Does she want me to call her back?" asked Helen.
Art shook his head, still grinning. "She wanted to tell you she and Barry were going to drop by. Be here in a few minutes."
"A few minutes!" Helen clutched at herself.
"What for?"
Her husband shrugged. "Damned if I know. Just being friendly, near as I could tell." He glanced sideways at her. "Hell, maybe they figured they'd catch you alone and join you for fun and games. They didn't know I was taking the day off."
"Art! What a thing to say!"
He laughed. "I sure can't imagine why else Barry would be coming. Hell, he's got a job, too! You don't make sales sitting around home!"
She giggled. "Depends on what you're selling." And his earlier words came to her. "A few minutes, did you say?" She shrieked. "Honey! It was more than a few minutes ago when they called!"
"Yeah."
"And you let me stand around out here like this! Honestly, Art!"
"Barry's not about to criticize. And Van's understanding. Why not?"
Why not? Why not, for the Today Helen? she thought. Brrr! I wouldn't back away from that cock today! "I think you're mean," she told Art. "But I've got the guts to call your bluff-this time."
"Good."
Before she had gotten to the kitchen, the doorbell rang. She heard voices and recognized Vanessa's. I can't do it! she realized with a sinking feeling. I know I can't! Not like this! She darted into the kitchen. An apron! That's what I need! She jerked open the apron drawer and held up one of her hostess models.
"Oh, no!" she cried aloud. The apron was a dainty, decorative bit of uselessness, and the notion of resorting to it abruptly drew on a streak of perverse humor. She giggled and tied the belt ribbon on. Heart-shaped, the lower panel had a narrow band of red trim and a wider lace ruffle. She raised the upper panel and buttoned its straps behind her neck. It was a second, smaller heart, each lobe lying against the underside of one of her boobs with its strap wide of her nipple. She had to giggle again.
"Myyy God!" Vanessa's tone was a mixture of astonishment and awe. "Helen!"
Helen whirled. "Oh, dear God, Van! You scared me out of ten years' growth! I was afraid Barry was with you!"
"He's in with Art. But what are you doing dressed like that?"
"Art didn't change the other night, Van. You didn't really expect him to be that shocked, did you?"
Vanessa appeared to tense. "Well…"
"I wouldn't have expected it, either, except I was high on screwdrivers. Anyhow, doing what I did convinced me how important he is to me." She paused and spread her hands, palms forward. "So I changed, instead."
"I can't believe it! Honey, you're not going out there in front of Barry like that, are you?"
"Why not? It didn't bother you the other night!"
"Damn it, that was night time! He's still got calls to make."
"Then how come he's over here in the middle of the day?"
Vanessa sniffed. "I didn't know that was a crime."
"I didn't say it was. But neither one of you knew Art was home today."
"No. We didn't. Why is he, anyway?" Vanessa's glance fell to Helen's scanty costume and the corners of her mouth crinkled. "On second thought, that's a foolish question."
"Art said you probably meant to take up where you left off the other night," suggested Helen. She was conscious of a twinge of guilt at the implication that Art had meant his little jest.
"You mean…?" Van gasped. "For God's sake! Are you two paranoid?"
"He didn't mean it. I wondered, though, after he said it."
"Well! We were worried, if you want to know. We realized that was a rough experience for you. Barry thought you might like to go out to lunch with us." She shook her head. "Looks like that's the last thing you'd want to do."
"I was getting ready to fix something to eat here. Why don't you and Barry eat with us?"
"With you dressed like that, Barry would only be thinking of eating one thing. God, Helen! Turn around. Let me see how you look from behind."
Helen turned, resentful of Vanessa's reaction. She heard Vanessa's low whistle.
"Those panties are a louder invitation than the ones Olga wears!" exclaimed the blonde. She smiled suddenly. "I wouldn't have guessed you'd own anything like that."
"Art sent off for them. I couldn't throw them out, but they didn't ever come out of the drawer."
"He sent off? Where?"
Helen laughed. "You want a pair? They're risky, Van." Her irritation evaporated. After all, she has a right to be off balance, she thought. How was she to know I was going to change? She didn't even know about the other me. "Art might remember, though, if you're not scared of what might happen."
Vanessa responded to the new note in Helen's voice. "Honey, I said the other night you had guts. I just didn't know how much! Would you honestly let Barry see you in those in the middle of the day?"
Helen unfastened the apron and drew it aside with a delicious thrill of wickedness at Vanessa's gasp.
"Oh, God!" Vanessa groaned. "They're hotter than I thought. They don't hide anything! You wouldn't!"
"Yes I would." Helen's stomach fluttered. Vanessa wasn't going to permit that, but the mere challenge was frightening.
Vanessa let her breath out slowly. "Oh, my! Honey, come on. I don't care if he does miss those calls. A guy doesn't get a chance to see that kind of underwear on a body like yours that often. He'd never forgive me if I cheated him out of it!"
"Oh, no! You don't really want me to!"
"No! Hell no! But Barry would! Come on!"
"But I haven't got lunch yet!"
"We can come back and fix it. Come on."
Vanessa grabbed Helen's hand and tugged. Helen hung back, and she thought for a moment Vanessa would give up. Then she felt her strength fade and the eager blonde dragged her from the room.
"Barry? Hey, Barry!" called Vanessa.
Helen freed herself by a desperate wrench. "I'll go! For God's sake, don't drag me!"
Barry and Art looked up as the two women entered the living room. Helen flushed under Barry's startled stare.
He whistled. "Jesus, Helen! What's with her, Art?"
Art shrugged. "Look for yourself. She sure as hell can't be hiding much."
"Yeah, man!" Barry leered at Helen. "Come closer, my child," he said with a croak.
Although his voice implied humor, Helen saw something else in his face. The sudden hunger she saw drew her like a magnet, and she glided to him. He extended his arm to lay his hand on her hip, the contact shocking her like an electric probe. He placed his other hand on her waist and drew her to him. She emerged from her trance-like state long enough to throw a mute appeal at her husband, then let herself sink onto Barry's lap. He turned her as she lowered herself, and she leaned back against him, her head next to his cheek.
"Goddamn it, baby!" he said. "You'd make a guy lose his head with a show like that!" His fingertips brushed her nipples. "I don't see how I'm going to be in any shape to work this afternoon. When did you start wearing this kind of stuff around the house?"
"You talk a lot," she murmured, her flesh quivering at the continued fondling of her tits.
"I guess." He laughed and began to rub her bare belly. "But you've been so damn modest all the time we've known you, I thought you were a prude. And then night before last and today… Shit! Is it a wonder I talk?"
She moaned softly and squired. "I don't know. Art didn't."
Barry winced and squeezed her tit. "Art's a man of action, pet. Or else he's got a one-track mind. I don't know which. Me, I like the way conversation lubricates a situation."
It isn't talk that's getting me lubricated! thought Helen. God, my cunt's wet!
Barry felt the protruding strands of her pussy hair and the taut netting of her panties. "Tell Van where these came from, baby. She's got to have some."
"They came from Art, and I told her."
"Like hell! I mean, where he got them! She'd better not get any from him!"
"Barry! You sound jealous!"
"I don't care what you call it. She's had hot pants for that guy of yours as long as I did for you! If she wants him to lay her once in a while, that's fine with me. But I'll be damned if he's going to buy these things for her!" He slid his hand between her thighs.
Helen clamped her legs together and Barry used both hands to pry them apart. He grabbed her twat and his finger slipped through the panty opening. He gasped.
"Christ! What next! A cock-gate!"
Barry maneuvered her on his lap until he could unzip his pants and let his cock surge through his fly.
"Oh, dear!" she whispered. "Oh, dear!" She tightened her butt-cheeks and thrust her legs out, raising her pussy for him.
He parted her cuntlips and dragged his fingers over the mouth of her snatch. Her hips twisted.
"Barry, darling," she whispered. "Put your cock in, please! I want him so!"
"Shit, Helen! I've got to work this afternoon!"
"With a hard-on?"
He laughed. "You win. And that's how it would be. Probably will anyhow, every time I think of you in these fuck-pants!" He grasped her by the waist and raised her, lowering her onto his cock.
She bent forward to rest her hands on his thighs, settling onto the hard prick. A gust of contentment swept her as she felt her cunt being filled. "Ahhh! Barry, Barry!"
He slid his hands onto her hips, grasping the smooth bulges firmly and bouncing her. The edge of the couch pressed her calves and her boobs leaped in their half-cup supports. She clenched her teeth and groaned shakily.
'I'm going to come pretty fast this way, baby," Barry told her. "Seeing that little strip of hot net across an ass like yours is enough to light a short fuse!"
"I don't care!" she panted. "I'll love every second of it!" She was surprised at having discovered she wasn't up-tight about reaching an orgasm. Because I've had so many the last three days, she thought. I wouldn't fight it, but I can wait till next time.
Barry's hips jerked upward, his balls mounding against the sober gray of his trousers, and Helen felt herself driven higher, the base of his cock hard against her pussy. She shook while Barry pumped his jism into her twat and continued to twitch after he had squeezed out the last of his cum and fallen back. When there was no stiffness left in the cock that impaled her holes she pushed herself off. She faced Barry, bending over him and kissing him on the mouth. Then she straightened.
"Thank you, darling," she said. "It feels so good to have you screw me."
He sighed. "You're a good lay, Helen. I wish we'd started swapping sooner."
She tensed. "Swapping! Barry, only nasty-minded sex fiends swap! We're not doing that!"
"Whatever, I still wish we'd started sooner."
"Okay. So do I." She wrinkled her nose at him. "We didn't, though. That means we've got to catch up."
"Oh, shit!" he groaned. "One crack like that and I'm in just as bad a shape as I was before you made me screw you! Helen, you're not even the same broad I used to know!"
"No." She dropped her glance to her toes. "No, I'm not, Barry. But that's a long story."
"Tell you what," he said. "I'm going' to remember that. One of these nights we'll make it as far as a bed. And when we're screwed out, we can lie there next to each other while you tell me the whole thing. Time you finish, we'll be rested enough to make it again."
"Oh, you!" she laughed, feeling herself flush. "Van? Do we have time to get lunch?"
Vanessa, cuddled on Art's lap, her lips at his ear, stirred and looked around. "Hmm? Lunch? Not now. Barry's appointment is in a half-hour." She glanced at her husband. "For heaven's sake, Barry! Get your peter in!" And then, "Oh, no! You've got to go home and change! You've got pussy tracks all over you!"
Helen's face burned and she avoided Vanessa's eyes. Barry grumbled and tucked his cock inside his trousers.
"It isn't all that goddamn bad, woman," he growled.
"It's bad enough you've got to change your pants!"
"Okay, okay. I didn't say I wasn't going to. Only we'll have to get a move on. You ready to wind up whatever you've got going with Art?"
"And what would that be?" Vanessa bristled.
"How the hell would I know? Maybe you're trying to work him for a pair of those fuck-pants!"
"Barry Rush!" His wife blazed at him. "You go ahead. I'll get Art and Helen to bring me home."
"Suit yourself." Barry heaved himself to his feet and zipped his fly. He paused on his way to the door to kiss Helen, then he was gone.
Vanessa gazed at the closed door. "My God," she muttered. "How touchy can a guy get!" "Maybe he was hungry," suggested Art.
"Of course he was. Hungry for pussy when he saw all that flesh! Well, he got it, didn't he?"
Helen resented Vanessa's implications. "It seems to me you dragged me in here like this," she said. "I was looking for something to cover me up."
"A hostess apron?!" Vanessa snorted. "What's the difference? I mean, after all!" "You still dragged me in."
"Damn it! Once I saw you like that, I couldn't do anything else! It's a sort of thing between Barry and me. Like an unwritten agreement. But I wouldn't have had to if you'd had any clothes on."
"Van! For Christ's sake! I dress for what's happening when I'm at home, not for whether someone might drop in!"
"I called first.''
Art nodded. "They did phone first," he said. "Fact is, I've got to agree it's going pretty far to shack up with another guy on his lunch break. I mean, it's like the difference between liking to eat and being compulsive about it. I don't know that we want to let this thing between us go quite that far."
Helen stared at her husband, aghast. He didn't want me the way I was, she thought. Now he doesn't want me this way, either! A tendril of panic snaked through her. What'll I do! It's too late to go back! It was bad enough to have to live with what I did with that Indian guide. I couldn't stand to have all the things I've done these three days hiding in the back of my mind! Besides, I like sex too much. If I have to choose, I'd rather be what I am now! Oh, what'll I do?
Vanessa sighed and got up. "Look. Maybe we're all hungry. We're getting all up-tight without any good reason. We're mature enough to be honest about what we feel like doing. If one of us is a little hotter, what's the difference? Maybe I don't yank off my clothes every time I get hot for Art, but there might be a time when I would. I'm not going to set myself up to judge you for going overboard, Helen."