Dianne Hagen leaned in to kiss Kerry on the cheek. Or so it would have appeared to anyone watching from a distance. But Pam was close enough to see the woman's lips brush quickly across Kerry's mouth, and she was close enough to see a slight flush spread across her husband's face. Turning, the woman looked Pam up and down with amused green eyes.
"You must be very proud of your husband," she said. "It's not very often that the Company decides to elevate a blue-collar man to the executive suites. Only when it's a blue-collar man as qualified and deserving as Kerry. How do you feel, on the verge of becoming Mrs. Assistant Superintendent, Pam?"
So. The promotion was official. But, God, to hear it from those lips – the lips she'd spent all afternoon kissing!
Pam looked at the woman, visualizing that body as she'd seen it this afternoon. And she could remember everything now hidden under the velvet trouser suit Ms. Hagen wore – the small hard breasts with their small hard nipples, the tiny navel, slender hips and legs, the russet patch of fur between the upper thighs, the cunt – oh, God, the cunt! – that was a narrow, tight-mouthed red slice in the midst of that puff of hair. As surely as Ms. Hagen must now be recalling Pam's own body. Jesus, there was no mistaking the meaning in those green eyes. They were cool, calculating, totally in control of the situation, and Pam knew that in another moment she'd be sick, dreadfully sick.
Ms. Hagen was holding one of. Kerry's hands, talking to him in a light, casual voice while her eyes focused on Kerry's wife, and Pam felt a gnawing anxiety. Was her reformation all for nothing? Would Ms. Hagen, in another moment, mention in that same casual tone, "Oh, by the way, I met the most darling call girl today. You lucky devil, I had to pay a hundred and fifty dollars for the rental of her body, but you get her for free, any time you want!"
But she didn't. Instead, she took a step toward Pam and said, "That's a lovely outfit, Pamela. Oh, Kerry, dear, would you get me a refill, please? Irish and soda. I'd like to toast your advancement in the Company."
And then they were alone, but Pam didn't want to be alone with Dianne Hagen. Before Kerry could return with the drinks, she said, "Excuse me, there's something I have to do." And site moved away, as fast as decorum would permit.
"Pam," called Ms. Hagen, but Pam wasn't listening and she certainly wasn't going back to find out what Dianne wanted. A maid at the snack table directed her upstairs to one of the bathrooms and she hurried up the stain, barely able to hold back tears of shame and fright.
She'd been in the bathroom for about ten minutes when she heard a knocking on the door. The sound was an intrusion upon her thoughts, but her thoughts were so terrible that intrusion was almost welcome. Dear God, what had she gotten herself into with that ridiculous, adolescent thrill-seeking? She'd prostituted herself to the lusts of Christ knew how many different men and, today – oh, God, today – she'd really done it. She'd gone to bed with the female executive who was handling her husband's promotion. Oh, Lord, why couldn't she have given up afternoon whoring yesterday, instead of today? Why hadn't she simply walked out when she found that her final client was a woman, not a man? Why had she ever gotten started in the first place? So many questions, and there were no fortheoming answers to any of them.
Again the knocking. Pam wiped her nose with a tissue. "Just a minute," she said. "I'll be finished in a minute."
The door opened and Dianne Hagen stepped into the bathroom. She closed the door behind her and fiddled a moment with its lock. "There," she said. "Now we shouldn't be disturbed."
"Don't come in here," Pam said weakly. "Please, I'm already in," Dianne replied. "But with us, that's nothing new, is it, Patricia darling? God, I forgot! It's Pamela, not Patricia. Pamela Wilson, Patricia Wright. Not a very original name-change, but then, most people choosing aliases tend to stick with their own initials. Darling, you can't imagine how astonished I was to see you a few moments ago. And as Kerry's wife, no less!"
Pam backed against the sink cabinet. "Please don't come any closer. I'd really like to be alone, if it's okay with you."
"Being alone isn't good for you," Dianne purred, sidling against Pam. The hard breasts grazed Pam's arm, and the dark-haired young wife shivered. She stood almost six feet tall in her heels tonight, but she felt like a dwarf about to be stepped on by an elephant.
Not that Dianne resembled an elephant. Far from it. She was slender and lithe, and she moved like a cat, and very feline, too, was the glow in her green eyes, the curiously triumphant cast of her smile. She smelled of subtle, expensive perfume, and her body heat seemed to make the entire bathroom suddenly very warm, very steamy. Pam's lungs tightened and breathing became an act of great difficulty.
If breathing was difficult, moving was even more so. Pam wanted to step out of the way, but her legs were made of steel and her feet of cast iron and she couldn't lift them; couldn't walk, couldn't not even when Dianne ran the backs of her fingers along Pam's cheek and across her trembling lips.
"What are you afraid of?" Dianne asked. "That I'll spill the beans to your husband? Good God, how could I do that without advertising a few facts about myself as well? Besides – I like you far too much." Her hand dropped and she touched Pam's top. "This is really attractive," Dianne went on. "I mean, it's really you. Sexy without being cheap. Is it new? My God, did I buy this for you? Oh, darling, I've rarely spent my money to better use. Here. Let me see."
And Pam hadn't the strength to protest as Dianne slipped the jacket off her shoulders. In another moment, Dianne was touching Pamela's bare arms and shoulders, her fingers toying with one of the slender straps. "I'll bet," Dianne added, "that you're not wearing a stitch of clothing underneath, are you? God, this looks like something you'd go to bed in, and I wish it was my bed you were en route to. Here, let me see."
"Please," Pam said, "I don't want you to see."
"But I already have. Could you have forgotten so soon?" Dianne purred through puckered lips and then suddenly her mouth was jammed tightly against Pam's and she was kissing with all her power and, though Pam willed her mind to resist, Pam could not will her lips to take that kiss without a qualm. She felt Dianne's hot mouth on her own – her lips parted slowly, reluctantly – and Dianne's tongue shot into Pam's mouth and there was nothing more Pam could do. She felt that tongue hit her own, hit it like an electrified cattle prod, and she wavered, on her feet and she moaned into Dianne's mouth, and then her arms enfolded Ms. Hagen and she swept the slightly smaller woman to her ample bosom and, tears forming in her eyes, she returned Dianne's kiss with all the lust and intensity she possessed.
Dianne's hands were free, for Pam was taking care of all the embracing, and Dianne put her hands to good use. She pulled the shoulder straps and Pam's dress top came falling down, the large, stiff-nippled boobs bouncing free, nipples vividly erect against Dianne's body. Dianne twisted her head to one side, and Pam moaned and shifted herself slightly, and Dianne seized one tit in a hot clutching hand, her fingers digging into the fragile breast tissue, squeezing, kneading, clasping, the nipple wedged tightly between two steel-like fingers and their hard knuckles. Pam felt her nipple begin to throb in that trap, and, she couldn't help herself. Her hands dropped down Ms. Hagen's back, she caught Dianne by the slender ass, and she pulled the woman to her as if she meant to swallow her in one gulping kiss.
Dianne was still pulling at Pam's dress, and it kept falling lower and lower, until it was a heap at her ankles and Pam's naked body pressed against Dianne's clothed frame. Dianne had been right on target. Under the dress Pam wore only her stockings, and Dianne's hand wasted no time in caressing a bare, warm buttock.
"So we meet again, Patricia," Dianne said with a smirk, drawing back to admire her handiwork.
Panting for breath, Pamela leaned against the sink cabinet. It was too late to cover herself, and probably pointless as well. She'd misjudged herself terribly and, as she looked at Ms. Hagen's twitching fingers, she knew that she wanted very much to feel those fingers on her body again, to feel them now, to feel them hot, eager, caressing. Her cunt began to leak a thin mist of dew and she cupped her tits, feeling the tense expectation that hammered in each beat of her speeding heart.
"I'm not Patricia," she said. "I never was Patricia. Don't call me Patricia any longer. Please."
"I won't," Dianne promised. "If you want to be Pamela again, that's fine with me. Pamela is a lovely name. I like to say it. But even more, I enjoy this," and she stooped, blowing a kiss at each of Pam's tits. Pam sighed, squeezed her boobs more vigorously, and the nipples seemed to thrust out of their own will, making delicious pink targets for Dianne's fingers and lips.
"Pamela tastes even nicer than Patricia did," Ms. Hagen whispered, just before her tongue lolled across Pam's left nipple, just before her lips closed upon the nipple and pulled it savagely.
"Ahhhh…" Still cupping her breasts, offering them, as it were, Pam eased back, and Dianne's mouth opened wider, sucking at the whole end of her tit. She felt teeth and tongue and lips working in harmony on her flesh, and Dianne's hand was between her fidgety legs, a pair of digits playing slowly across the dampening gash hidden amid the fur.
"Yes, do it, please; do it," Pam cooed, and she sidled, removing one tit from Dianne's mouth but making the other fully available. Dianne leaked drool on the nipple as she nursed it, and it grew stiff and long in her mouth. Pam curled her fingers in the other woman's hair and pulled Dianne to her bosom, suckling her as a mother would suckle a baby, and she couldn't stop herself, couldn't persuade herself that it was wrong, because it wasn't. She loved what was being done to her, and she wanted more. All her good intentions thrown out the window, Pam Wilson began to hump her snatch up and down on the expert feminine hand that played with it. In a moment she was rewarded sweetly – Dianne parted the tight lips and inserted two fingers up Pam's sopping twat.
"Oh, God, yes, that hits the spot," Pam whispered, pulling Dianne's face even tighter against her breast. Teeth were gnawing softly on her tit, and they seemed to scrape endlessly across the whole intricate pattern of nerves that made up the sensitive peak of her tit. And those fingers kept pushing in and out of her pussy, until the muscles danced and rippled in a rhythmic responsive action, and Pam felt tears flowing down her cheek. They were tears for the shame she felt here, now, and she could no more hold them back then she could will her body not to respond to Dianne Hagen's lovemaking.
"I know something else that will hit the spot even better," Dianne promised, kneeling before Pamela. "Spread your beautiful legs for me," she added, punching into Pam's cunt to emphasize the request, and by now Pam was in no mood to resist. She widened the gape of her legs and looked down, past her swaying, hard-nippled breasts, as Dianne began to make erotic oral love to her cunt.
First the fingers exited Pam's pussy, coming out slowly, and reluctantly – as reluctant as Pam's snatch was to let them go. Dianne looked at her glistening fingers, and she looked up at Pam, too, and then she licked her fingers dry, sucking them avidly, bright eyes attesting her delight. "Delicious," she said, "and it makes me, oh, God, so hungry for more!"
"Take all you want," Pam said, giggly from hysteria, "but eat all you take." It was something Kerry used to say, something he'd picked up in the Army, and right now it seemed so apropos she had to laugh.
Dianne Hagen laughed too, and once again those green eyes were the emerald pools of quicksand into which Pam had fallen once today, into which she was ready to fall again, right now. The eyes transfixed Pamela and she felt breath catching in her throat, and she said, "Well, what are you waiting for? Aren't you going to do it?"
"Of course I am," Dianne replied, and she planted her fingers on the petals of Pam's cunt. It opened, and Dianne's face darted in. A hot, frisky tongue skated through Pam's gash, touching all her sensitive parts in its passage but not lingering on any of them long enough to make the rest of her feel slighted. A finger was toying with Pam's ass, and Pam couldn't keep from remembering how sweet it had been to be double-fingered this afternoon, and she found a new excitement building behind her tits as she anticipated that delicious prospect.
Her slit was up, of course, and on Dianne's second raid through Pam's cunt, tongue and clitoris made sudden, exciting connection and Pam closed her eyes, mewing. "Heyyyyy…"
She reached down then, and took over from Dianne, using her own fingers to part the lips of her twat, and she spread it as widely as she could. Dianne's tongue moved further up Pam's slot, stabbing into the hole that grew wetter with each additional plunge. Pam could feel the hot cunty juices moist and frothy on the flanges of her cunt, and some of it was her pussy drool mid some of it was spittle dripping from Dianne's mouth. Whichever, sand whatever the proportions, it felt delicious on her cunt and she let her fingers massage the wetness into the swollen lips and surrounding tissue, rubbing until her entire mons was a hotbed of arousal.
Dianne could feel that arousal building with each pass of her tongue, and she grew more venturesome in her licking. Again and again she whipped Pam's clitoris, teasing the pearly bud until it stood up like a hard, hot nipple, and she sucked it – not continuously, but in alternation with her lazy, effective tongue work in and out of Pam's hole, so that the pleasure could swell, diminish, and swell again for Pamela. And it was good. Oh, Lord, it was good. Pam puckered her lips and sent out little trilling noises of contentment.
"I'm going to make you come, darling," Dianne said authoritatively. "I'm going to make you gush like a spring."
"Yes," Pam replied, "if you don't, I'll never forgive you. Oh, God, don't stop – make me come, Dianne, make me come…"
And then she yelped as Dianne bunched three slender, supple fingers into a hard, thick boring tool and drove them up her pussy with an implacable thrust. Pam lifted onto her tiptoes and come down hard upon those inserted fingers, and they felt just like a short but oh so fat cock fucking the hell out of her snatch, and it was sweet, and sweeter still when Dianne planted her mouth on Pam's rubbery clit and began to suck it for all she was worth – for all Pam was worth, too.
Her clit was awash in the spit of Dianne's mouth, and it was fully exposed to the hot wet swiping of Dianne's tongue as well. There was the faintest pressure of teeth on Pam's clit, and she whooshed breath through fluttering lips as she felt Dianne's incisors ride softly on her most delicate possession. Again and again Dianne's fingers shot up her pussy tube, and the flesh was slippery as melted butter around them. Pam could feel the leakage of juice from her hole and there was a dizzy sensation in her head. She staggered on her feet, as if she were going to fall, but she didn't fall. Instead she grabbed Dianne Hagen's head, used the kneeling woman as her brace, and fucked her orgasm onto Dianne's eager face.
Dianne was smoking, but the room had a ventilator and the smoke of her cigarette didn't linger, for which Pam was very grateful. The bathroom was a little too small and confining for two women and a smoldering Newport.
Somehow, now that it was over, it seemed only light and proper, what she and Dianne had just done. Actually, what Dianne had done. Pam's role had been that of recipient; Ms. Hagen had not even undone the buttons of her shirt and she'd asked nothing from Pamela except a few kisses and the correct responses.
"Two hours ago I thought I had it all figured out," Pam said, wiping her cunt with a moist tissue. "I'd decided that you and I, this afternoon – that we were just something weird that had happened to me – part of something that should never have beg in the first place. My husband came home from work and at first I didn't think I could stand for him to touch me – not after the way I'd made love with you this afternoon and then he started and, Jesus, I couldn't hold still, I couldn't wait for him to get it in me! And while we were fucking, I told myself that I'd played with fate once too often. Kerry and I have a good life, so why was I prowling around, just looking for the chance to screw it up?"
Dianne nodded as she repaired her makeup. "You're right, darling. I know you're not the only housewife who thinks she can find a little taste of spice as a call girl. Admittedly, you were taking fewer chances than many of your professional sisters. You weren't out on the street hustling; you did all your business by telephone, with references required and high enough prices to keep out the trash and scum. Not much chance of meeting a weirdo who gets his kicks slashing you with a razor…"
Pam's face went dead white; she'd never even thought of that possibility. Dear God! And she'd seen that very plot line so often on TV cop shows! Her stomach churned inside her and she caught the rim of the sink for support.
"Don't get upset, darling," Ms. Hagen went on. "You just finished telling me you'd canceled your answering service and hung up Patricia Wright for good. But tell me this – did you ever wonder if any of your clients might not be an executive or representative of our company? Mine and Kerry's? Someone you could perhaps meet socially, now that your husband is a rising star with the firm? Hmmm? What if I'd been a man and we'd come face to face downstairs? Could you have handled that?"
"Jesus," Pam whispered. "I don't know. It's something else I never thought of."
Dianne nodded smugly. "You're still an amateur, Pamela Wilson, but because you're such a promising amateur, I intend to take you under my wing. I like to feel that I have an investment in you, and I want to make that investment pay off. Mostly for me, but it should be fun for you, too."
"I don't see how," Pam said. "I mean…"
"You don't see how you can have an affair with me? Is that what you mean? It's simple. Do you remember what I was telling you in bed this afternoon? That my sexual preference is for women, of course, and you should have no lingering doubts about that, but that I can enjoy a man now and then, too. The technical term for me is 'bisexual'; however, I prefer to think of myself as a lesbian who can switch-hit on occasion. You – well, I think you're basically heterosexual but you show a dazzling potential in my direction, too, and I aim to exploit that potential. And to exploit you, too, darling, exploit you deliciously."
"Anyway, I remember telling you that a man could sometimes give me a little tingle in the ovaries, that I'd met a man today who impressed me as good bedroom fodder. Is any of this getting through to you?"
"Kerry?"
Dianne's green eyes twinkled. "He is attractive, and you've been giving me some juicy details about his performance. Besides, he reminds me of that actor – the one who used to star in all the motorcycle films after Jack Nicholson moved on to better things – all man, all muscle – I have a weakness for the type, just as I have a weakness for your type, tits and ass and soft sweet flesh. Did you see me kiss him downstairs? I did that so you could see. And he didn't pull away, not even when I brushed his mouth."
"It wouldn't work. You couldn't get next to Kerry."
"I can, if I want to. He's a man, Pamela, and any man can be had by a woman who knows how to take him. I'll be coming down from New York as often as I can manage – oh, say, once or twice a week – I'll have to keep track of how he's doing his job. The home office likes to be informed about potential executive material, and Kerry is definitely that, too. My guess is that I'll have him in the sack within – mmmm – ten days. Tops."
Pam's eyes enlarged. She'd never heard anything so cold-blooded in her life, as this woman, talking so candidly about seducing Pam's own beloved husband. Yet she wasn't outraged. If anything, the idea excited her, especially in light of what she and Dianne Hagen were to one another now.
"You'll have to do your part, of course. Freeze up a little. Find excuses not to fuck him. And when you do let him have a slice, be cool and a little bit distant."
"I don't get it. What's in this for me?"
Dianne laughed. "You really are an innocent! Don't you see? I'll make sure that you catch us, that you discover our wicked secret. You turn on the tears. And before Mr. Kerry Wilson knows what's being done to him, the three of us will be enmeshed in a cozy little scene that satisfies all our secret wishes and desires. Basically, you'll have him, with me on the side; I'll have you, with him on the side; and he'll have both of us. I've never known a man who didn't spring up like a radio aerial at the sight of two women going hog wild on one another. Anyway – when we transfer Kerry to the New York office – and we will, you can be assured, because he's going places with the Company – it'll be that much easier. What do you say? Are you game?"
"It-it sounds – it sounds exciting," Pam said, and the thudding of her heart behind the soft, full cushion of her left tit was like a drum beating inside her body.
"Trust me," Dianne said, "I can lead you to delights you've never dreamed of. If excitement is what you're looking for, you are guaranteed to find excitement. Only trust me."
"Okay," Pam said, sealing the bargain with a kiss.
"Now, then," Dianne observed, "why don't we go back down to the party before they turn off the lights and lock all the doors? Here. Your lipstick is smeared. Mmmm, let me smear it just one more time for luck, okay?"
"Okay," Pam giggled.