Janet hesitantly opened the front door to her house and her heart jumped to her throat. Martin was standing outside. He had raised his hand to knock again and she stared at the upraised fist in a sudden terror. "Hey, don't be frightened," he said jokingly. "You scared me as much as I did you."
The girl drew in a deep breath and stepped aside. She knew it would do no good to try to keep him out. Until Greg's embezzlement was covered up she would have to remain his servant. It was the first time she had heard from him in five days and had hoped that he would have decided not to do anything. Perhaps he has changed his mind, was all she could think of since that night, though, she knew it was not true. That would just not be like Martin at all and was just too much to pray for.
"Shall we start with coffee again," he said with a cocky grin, his words a directive more than a question.
"I don't have the time, Martin. I have to pick Greg up at the office," she lied, trying to stall him off as best she could.
"Now, Janet. I'm picking Greg up in two hours. Should we go in the same car, or did you want to split him?" he laughed. He had told her husband that he would drive him home in order to make sure that he would be safe and alone with Janet.
"Alright," she said walking dejectedly to the kitchen to heat the coffee. He followed her down the hallway silently and she wished he would speak. What can he want? she thought. The only good that had come from her night with Martin, was that now she and her husband were fighting for something together. But they had no weapons, and did not really know what they were fighting. Martin had not made anything clear. It was up to him to set the battleline. They would be on the defensive, until then, no matter what.
And… Janet knew, though she would not admit it to herself, that she still had horrible mixed emotions about her night with Martin. As she pulled a cup and saucer from the cupboard she could not remove the image of Martin's demands on her body that had given her so much pleasure not many nights before.
"I'm not drinking alone," he said, interrupting her thoughts.
Without protesting she drew another mug from the shelf and turned to face him. He sat at the breakfast nook smoking an extra long cigarette, watching her through a smoke ring he had just blown. He took his time to speak.
"Haven't you anything to say?" he asked. "You didn't think that I would evaporate, did you? It's one trick I haven't learned yet, but I'm working on it." Martin was pleased with what he said. He considered himself something of a wit, but Janet considered him something much less.
"Of course not," she said, trying to cover her emotions. "But, I thought perhaps you had changed your mind. Really Martin, if you would think about it…"
"Oh I've been thinking about it," he said. "But I've only been making plans, not destroying them." He looked behind her. "The coffee is ready."
She turned to the counter and unplugged the pot, pouring them both a cup. Don't let him put anything in it, she prayed to herself silently. His nude body was still lurking in her mind, urging her to do the things he had forced her to do before. She could not deny that he had made her feel like Greg never could, but she could not remove the guilt that inked her conscience.
"What kind of plans do you mean," she said hoping to discover what he really wanted. If she had something definite to tell Greg, then maybe they would have something to fight with. Her own curiosity was aroused, also. A man with his imagination could come up with anything. If it was only sex he was thinking of, then she would be in for something more than their first encounter and Janet wondered silently to herself if she had the strength of will to go through all that shame and humiliation again.
"Plans for all of us," he said taking a sip of the hot black drink. He didn't need to put anything into the cups. He wanted to have her again this afternoon, but he knew by her nervous fidgeting that he wouldn't need the potion this time.
"When I bring Greg home I'll tell him my plan also. By the way, you haven't told him about the other night, have you?"
"No," she lied. "How could I?"
"Good. He doesn't need to know yet." His reply puzzled her. "You won't have to tell him that I was here this afternoon either."
"Martin, I can't…"
"Of course, you can. We have the time. Take your coat off while I tell you what is going to happen."
Janet had forgotten that she still wore the light coat. She was going for a drive when he had arrived. She took it off and laid it on the chair.
"You, Greg, Darleen and I," he said, "will be taking a little trip together this weekend."
She was again surprised. "I don't think I could stand it," she said, her eyes opening in shock. "I just couldn't be together with Darleen and Greg, knowing that we had done what we did…"
"And will do again," he interrupted. "You look warm. Take off your blouse."
Janet was shocked. She looked toward the open kitchen window and back at him. He always succeeded in catching her off guard. The thought of stripping in the kitchen confused her mind and when Martin told her to close the window and draw the drapes, she obeyed almost mechanically and stood silent. He glared at her and continued to speak, while she started slowly to unbutton her blouse.
"There's nothing to worry about," he said. "The four of us will have a very cozy time in the beachhouse. Darleen has told you about our retreat, hasn't she?" The girl nodded and fumbled with the third button.
His eyes burned into her brain. His smile infuriated her. She wanted to smash those perfect teeth and end her torment, forever, but he continued to talk in his usual smooth way while she moved as though a slave following her master's commands. "The four of us will get to know one another very well before the weekend's over." For a moment she didn't understand what he meant. Then it hit her like a bolt. Greg would never stand for it! It was the first time that she realized that Martin was talking about swapping partners. She had heard of people doing much of the same thing, especially in the counties north of San Francisco. But as far as she could remember, she had never met anyone who had actually done it. Her mind recoiled in horror at what he was suggesting but her hands moved on and against her conscious will unfastened the fourth and fifth buttons of her blouse.
The kitchen air felt cool in the cleavage between her young, perfect breasts. She knew that Martin would take her again, that he was going to do it to her right in her own kitchen, in broad daylight. She and Greg had never made love during the day, except on their honeymoon, but then the drapes were drawn in a large dark hotel room. The prospect strangely excited her, but she held back, her vow not to let him touch her again flickering through her swirling brain.
He continued talking about the trip. "Darleen has plans for Greg, too." Then he paused, seeing the anguished look on her face. "You don't think it can be done, do you?" he smiled. "Well, it just may surprise you how easy it's going to be."
Janet forgot the cool air for a moment. She could not be part of a conspiracy against her husband. If he were to be unfaithful it would be her fault and she had done enough already. But Martin anticipated her.
"And don't think for one minute little girl, that you are going to tell him in advance. If you warn him, it would take the fun out of it. Neither of you can get out of this now and you know it. Greg would be in jail in one hour if I were to ever spill what I know. So just relax and let's enjoy it." His grin broadened as he saw the defeated look cross over the young wife's face as though the end of the world were coming.
Thwarted, Janet dropped her hands to her sides. What could she do? The cocky smiling man held all the trump cards and she would just have to play along. Obviously, nothing else would work.
"I told you to take off your blouse," he said. She did as he said, slowly, slightly embarrassed, but, in spite of her helplessness, strangely aroused by the thought of him looking at her naked breasts in broad daylight. He decided to change his original plan, and only tease her this afternoon. It would make her more pliable when they got together at the beach on Friday.
He stared at the round firmness of her naked breasts. The cool air had extended her nipples, causing them to become erect. Goose flesh covered her body. She mechanically dropped the blouse to the freshly washed floor. The buttons clicked on the tile. Her hands hung limply at her sides awaiting the next command. Martin watched her, amused with his game. "Shoes," he said, and she bent to remove them.
The weight of her breasts pressed toward the floor as she stood on one foot, then the other. She spent a moment longer than necessary arranging her shoes neatly on the floor. The weight of her full breasts hanging loosely pulled at the muscles in her chest, the muscles that kept her firm and young looking. She shivered inwardly at the weird sensation of stripping her clothes off in front of a man who wasn't even her husband.
Martin watched the fine white breasts as they swayed gently beneath her moving body. He had an idea how it made her feel but said nothing as she arranged her shoes. If she wanted to work herself up, he would let her.
The tile was cold to the bottom of her warm feet. She could feel her temperature rising.
"Well, what are you stalling for?" he asked, enjoying his power to command her to the utmost.
She straightened up at his words and started to walk meekly toward him.
"No," he said. "The skirt. Take off your skirt, and make it good."
Her face flushed. She was being made into a common stripper, giving him a thrill, she thought. Though the blind was drawn, the room was still bright with the harsh light that kitchens always seem to emanate. Slowly she put both hands behind her back to find the zipper. Her shoulders were back as she started hesitantly to unzip the skirt. She had to lean forward slightly to unfasten the button and her breasts swayed sensuously with the motion of her body. Her nipples were straight and erect. A red flush of sexual excitement spread involuntarily across her chest.
The button came undone easily and she started to slide the skirt over her hips. It came off easily and fell to the floor with the blouse and shoes. She stood naked except for the silk panties. Martin did not have to tell her to take them off. She did it easily, turning her back to him, exposing the lush full moons of her soft, white buttocks, which gleamed marble-like in the shaded light.
Martin had an erection and his blood filled penis pressed hard against his pants as she dropped the flimsy, nylon panties onto the pile. "Show me that you are enjoying yourself," he said and for a moment she thought to walk toward him, but knew that he did not want that. He wanted to further humiliate her and she knew there was nothing at all she could do about it. And now… standing completely naked and exposed in front of him in her own kitchen she was not certain there was anything she wanted to do about it. Not certain the small subtle flames licking at her body would allow her to do anything but bend to his will. The dampness now growing between her legs urged her to go to him. She could see that his left hand was below the table top and she knew that he was softly massaging his swollen penis. She wanted to do it for him but knew also that he wanted something else, something more bizarre and tantalizing from her before he took her.
She had read enough novels to guess her own next move. She put her hands to her breasts and cupped the firm succulent flesh. Her eyes were glued to his. She thought he wanted her to excite him by touching herself until he was ready to take her. Her own touch was becoming too much. The dampness between her legs had increased. The soft pink lips of her vagina were filling with desire and need.
"Sit on the table and play with yourself for me," he said, his eyes glowing from the passion building in his mind.
Oh no! Her mind raced again in confusion. He wanted her to finger herself!
Oh God, the same shame again!
She had masturbated guiltily a few times when Greg had been neglecting her for so long, but to do it in front of another person, in front of a man… in the kitchen! Her mind rebelled at the obscene thought, but her hand was no longer under her control and slid compulsively from her breasts down across her belly to her thighs as she slid her buttocks up on the edge of the table and lifted her knees up to her breasts. The whole of her loins were exposed to his seeking eyes. She was afraid. More afraid than when he had taken her from behind. She could not pinpoint her fear but it was there, cruel and unyielding. She only wanted natural sex, or at least as close as she might come to it. But to masturbate in front of this man was too much.
But, while her mind rebelled in futile protest, her fingers plotted a course of their own through the soft blond silken hairs above her vaginal opening. Martin watched her part the thin, pubic hair between her legs and with a small mewling groan slip a finger down the wet, pink slit and play with the swollen clitoris that throbbed there with a seeming life of its own. He had excited himself, playing with his massive throbbing cock, but he forced himself to stop. He would save it for tonight at home, and save her for the weekend. He wanted her worked up to the boiling point before he threw it to her before the unbelieving eyes of her own husband in a few short days.
The girl sat back on the table, unaware now of the man in her kitchen. Her fingers slid from her clitoris to the smooth, wet opening of her cunt that throbbed and contracted down between her open legs as though it were a hungry animal craving to be fed.
Her head rolled salaciously back and forth on her shoulders, her long blonde hair swinging around her neck and breasts as though she were being lashed by an invisible tormentor standing over her. While down between her widely spread thighs, her probing fingers stroked rapaciously at the soft pink flesh and then suddenly with a wet, slippery noise pushed themselves deep up inside the hair-lined lips of her cunt.
"Ooooooohhhhhh," she moaned aloud, her mouth dropping open at the first sensuous touch. Her twisting body stilled for a moment, absorbing like sweet nectar the pleasure rippling through her. And then, with a deep throated groan that seem to come from the very depths of her primeval being, she began to move the fingers in small, erotic circles, teasing cruelly at the smooth, fleshy walls of her inner vagina. It was good, soooo good… but not good enough! She needed a man!
"Martin, Martin… please…" she moaned piteously in her agony, her eyes tightly closed to block out the sight of the triumphant grin she knew he would be bearing.
But, there was not a sound and she opened them slightly, praying to see him standing before her, naked, his erected cock jutting out from his body and ready to fill her with its massive flesh.
But, oh God, NO!
He was gone!
Her eyes raced desperately around the shaded room, hoping against hope that it was all a lie, that he was still there… But it was to no avail.
He was gone.
She groaned in helpless agony and let her hand slip wetly from between her legs. There was no use in going on. The thought of having Martin take her had made doing it to herself useless. She would never be able to satisfy herself now, and could only pray that perhaps Greg would throw her to the floor when he came home and quench the fire raging in her belly. There was no other way, no other way!
Helplessly, she slid from the table to the floor and with effort picked up her fallen clothes. Tiny tears streamed down her cheeks.
God! Oh, God, what was going to become of her! She knew that this afternoon she had had no choice but follow Martin's commands and strip her clothes from her body as he told her, but to suddenly begin enjoying it and then begging for it was another thing. Perhaps she was just the whore that Greg had shouted she was when he found out about her night with Martin. Perhaps that was all she was, just a hot, fucking little whore who was ready to drop her pants at any prick that came along. She dropped to the floor crying in great gasping sobs and trying to blot the horrible thoughts she was thinking from her mind but it was a long hour later that she managed to lift herself to her feet and stagger down the hallway to the bathroom to prepare herself for Greg's homecoming. The dark shadow of what was to come the following weekend hung heavy over her like a black cloak of doom, but she knew there was nothing that could be done to stop it… nothing at all.