Angel Lost in the Dark Ch. 03

I reached out and put my hands on her tits, my eyes traveling over the customers in the bar only a few feet in back of her.. I was excited, scared, filled with wonderment, awe, embarrassment, and sheer heart pounding lust.

I played with them for a minute, maybe more, until Helen sat back in her seat. She continued her manual stimulation but I was no longer looking at them. Instead my eyes were concentrating on the other customers. I wanted to make sure that no one was coming too close. Helen’s eyes were closed and her head was moving back and forth against the imitation leather backing of the couch. She was obviously excited and trusting me to alert her if someone was to approach.

I needed another drink. I hadn’t had enough yet. For all my planning, I now found myself getting paranoid. I needed more courage. It was only 8 o’clock, and I didn’t want it to end too early. I still wanted to go to Terry’s Tavern. There, in the privacy of the dim lighting and the anonymity it provided I could relax a little more, I thought, and truly enjoy what might turn out to be the most erotic night in our marriage. Here, in the bright light, I felt it was a little too much.

“Whew,” she said when she finally moved her hands away from her body and opened her eyes. “Is anyone coming?” she asked.

“No,” I managed to squeak. She turned her head and looked toward the bar as if not trusting me.

“Good.” With that she took off the shirt completely and tossed it on the table. She slipped the straps of her bra off her shoulders and unhooked the clasp in the back. Bare breasted she opened her purse and put the bra inside. Only after putting the bra in her purse did she pick up the blouse and put it on. “That’s feels better,” she said with a big smile on her face. “I need to pee. Would you order us just one more Margarita before we go?”

She buttoned all but the top three buttons of her blouse and then took her purse and walked unashamedly to the far end of the bar and entered the ladies room. While she was gone I motioned for the waitress and ordered us each another Margarita.

It wasn’t long before she returned to the booth. Four buttons were now undone and only the bottom button was holding her shirt in place. I could see the fleshy sides of both breasts in their entirety all the way down past the crease where the their flesh folded down onto her body. They swung from side to side as she walked and threatened to pop out at any moment. The pinkish colors of her nipples were clearly visible as they pressed themselves against the white material. At this moment in time I considered her the sexiest woman, bar none, that I had ever seen. Strange, I thought, how we had somehow missed all this excitement in the early years and had wasted all that time in getting to know the real us.

“I have a present for you,” she said, and then she opened up her purse and handed me her panties. She smiled and said, “Put them in your pocket and don’t lose them. They really look great, but they keep getting wedged in my asshole and it’s not very comfortable.” I looked at the panties dumbfounded and then looked back into her eyes. They seemed alive with sexuality, hunger, and promise.

As loose and as carefree as she was being with her body, it still sounded strange to hear her use the word ‘asshole’. ‘Ass’ would have sufficed, but by adding the second syllable she was purposely making it sound dirty and raw. She often chastised me for using what she called ‘gutter’ language, and to hear it coming from her was both shocking and perversely erotic. Was she trying to impress me with her newly discovered earthiness, or was she subtly implying that she wanted me to use the same crude language with her? Or was it perhaps only a response to my having earlier used the words ‘shit’ and ‘tits’? When used at the right time and in the right circumstances such words can have a meaning far beyond the scope of their definition. They can become a powerful aphrodisiac capable of transferring erotic knowledge from one hungry soul to another. They can convey a willingness to accept the profane and give permission to others to indulge in the same. I was hoping that this was her motive, whether conscious or not. Perhaps by speaking the words she could feel their power, understand the secrets they held and enjoy the liberation of speaking completely uncensored, free at last to bare her thoughts as well as her body and to revel in both the glory and the depravity of her mind, her spirit and her soul.

She displayed no embarrassment at all when the cocktail waitress brought our drinks. The first four buttons were still open and she was bare from her neck to her navel, and her blouse seemed to be covering nothing but the nipples themselves. The waitress didn’t say anything or make any indication that she had noticed (she was much too professional for that) but I was watching her as she leaned over to set the glasses on the table in front of us, and I noticed her eyes widen and her mouth open slightly before she caught herself and regained her composure.

After the waitress left there was a few moments of pregnant silence. I suddenly was at a loss as to how to open up the conversation again. I waited for Helen to take the initiative but I waited in vain. We talked, of course, but not about the subject that I so desperately wanted to explore. She made no attempt at reviving the conversation and I didn’t know how. Nothing remotely associated with the surreal nature of her calmly sitting in front of me so…so…revealingly was being mentioned and I was afraid that all might be lost if we didn’t get back into the same give and take we had going on before. Finally, as we finished our drinks, I suggested to Helen that we go to one more bar. “It’s darker and more intimate,” I said, “and we can relax and be ourselves.”

“I don’t know,” she said shaking her head in an exaggerated manner. “It’s getting late and I’m all fucked up. I don’t even know if I can stand.”

“I’ll help you,” I said, and I stood and moved to her side of the booth. I reached my hand out to help steady her if she needed my support and as she turned to get out of the booth her hand slipped off the table and she fell sideways across the seat. As she did both breasts dislodged themselves from their hiding place and the dress rose up on her legs and I could see everything between her legs.

“Oops,” she giggled, “I forgot I wasn’t wearing panties. I told you I was all fucked up.”

I quickly pulled the skirt back over her legs and then helped her hide her tits again.. As she turned to face the bar I noticed her left nipple had fallen out of the shirt again, and while I covered it as quickly as I could I saw that at least one man had observed her little accident. I was somewhat uncomfortable with the whole situation, but there was nothing I could do about it.

We made it to the front door with no problem, but as we walked across the room I could see all the eyes pointed in our direction. It might have been my imagination, but as we walked by each booth and barstool I could almost feel them holding their breath, waiting, I suppose, for the inevitable to happen. Unless you have ever been in a similar situation you can’t imagine the mixture of fear and pride that was coursing through my body as we finally reached the door and walked out into the deepening twilight.

The breeze hit us as we walked out of the bar and I suddenly realized that I was perhaps as drunk as she was. I could see the sign for Terry’s Tavern from the front door, but I couldn’t keep it in focus. I suggested to Helen that we walk the two blocks instead of driving. It wouldn’t take any longer, I told her, and it would be too much of a hassle to get in the car, drive that small a distance, and then have to park again. What I didn’t tell her was that I was afraid I couldn’t drive. She was beyond caring at this point in time and as she stumbled forward she simply said, “OK, let’s walk.”

I took her hand and tried my best to steer her down the sidewalk as we stumbled our way forward. Cars were driving by us and Helen was having a good time with them. For every car that passed and honked at her shameless display she would pull open her blouse and flash her tits, then turn to me and giggle, “I don’t think I should’a done that, do you?” I would say, “I certainly agree you shouldn’t” but when the next car went by she would do the same damn thing. She thought it was fun, and so did I, but drunk as I was I was still sober enough to know it was dangerous fun. There were a lot of crazies out there and I didn’t want any of them to stop and give us any trouble, and I certainly didn’t want the police to pull over and possibly arrest her for indecent exposure or for being drunk in public. Once we were in Terry’s I would be in familiar surroundings and I could relax and enjoy her sexuality, but right now the fun of the moment was being hampered by fear.

When we made it to Terry’s I was about to open the familiar front door when Helen paused to button up her shirt. Secretly I was glad but when I saw that she had buttoned all but the top two my spirits flagged again. I looked her in the eye and then unbuttoned the third button. She sighed quietly, as if resigning herself, and she left it unbuttoned while I opened the door and we entered.

When I saw the safe, dark lighting I began to relax and feel more comfortable. It was almost as if I was home. I felt like nothing could happen to us here. Nothing had happened to the couple I had watched and it wouldn’t happen to us. Buck certainly wouldn’t say or do anything regardless of how erotic we became, and for the few single men I saw gathered around the bar and the pool table it would probably be a fantasy come true.

The pool table was to right side if the bar, and beyond it were the restrooms and four dimly lit tables and two booths. There were also a few candle lit tables near the doorway where we were standing. I was still feeling drunk and since Helen had taken the chance of flashing her tits at the cars going by I took a chance as well, and I draped my arm over her shoulder and placed my hand under her shirt .

“Where would you like to sit?” I asked.

She quickly covered my hand with hers, hiding the fact that she was exposed. “Anywhere you want,” she said, “but I can’t walk in like this.”

“Why not? You were flashing all the cars. What’s the difference?”

She looked at me and I saw her expression change. At first I had thought if was a look of confusion, but later I began to believe she had experienced a sudden insight. She pulled my hand away and pulled her shirt together “I’m drunk,” she said, “but I’m not so drunk that I’m going to let all these men see me naked. Let’s go sit in one of the booths,” and before I could say anything she had wobbled away and I was forced to follow.

As we walked past the two men who were playing pool I was suddenly glad that she had moved my hand. She was still unbuttoned and both of the men went out of their way to make sure she knew they were staring. Polite gentlemen would be more discreet, I thought, like I had been when I had first seen the couple in the bar the first time. Had she not removed my hand how would they had acted?

Once we were seated, she turned to me and said, “What is it exactly that you had in mind by coming here?”

Suddenly I was at a loss for words again. What was I supposed to say?

When I didn’t answer immediately she looked at me with those penetrating eyes of hers and she said, “If I hadn’t taking your hand away, would you have left it there the whole time we walked across room?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

She was quite when she said “But you wanted to?”

“I suppose.”

She was quiet again. She looked over at the men playing pool and stared at them for a long while, and when she turned back to me she said, “Would you mind getting us another Margarita? I want to get just a teensy bit drunker.” She held up her thumb and her digit finger showing me in a measurement just how teensy much drunker she wanted to get. Without even thinking of how wide apart they had been I walked to the bar and to order us both another Margarita.

“Hi, Tom,” Buck said as I ordered the two drinks, “Who’s you’re gal friend?”

“That’s not a ‘gal’ friend,” I said, “that’s my wife.”

“Congratulations,” he said as his eyes turned to look at the booth where she was still seated, “you have great taste in women.” He was talking to me, but his eyes were on Helen.

When I returned with the drinks I handed her one and she set it on the table. I slid in beside her and set my drink next to hers. She didn’t take a drink nor did I. Suddenly I felt a strange silence fall between us, like a wall had been put up.. We just sat there as if we had nothing important to say. Finally to break the uneasiness of the silence I excused myself and went to the restroom.

While I was sitting there I tried desperately to remember what the last words we had said to each other. If there was a rift between us I wanted to know what had caused it. For the life of me I couldn’t figure it out. I remembered going to the bar and getting the drinks and I remembered going back to the booth only to get the silent treatment. The only other thing I could remember was her holding her fingers in front of my face and telling me she wanted an itsy-bitsy one. Before that it was just a cloudy haze.

I smoked an entire cigarette while I sat on the can so it must have been at least five minutes or more until I returned to booth. As I came out of the bathroom and turned the corner I saw that the two men who had been playing pool were now standing by the booth talking to Helen. As I approached she waved her hand at me and then she motioned for me to slide in beside her. As I did she threw her arms around me and gave me a big kiss on the cheek. Her tits didn’t slip out, but they came dangerously close.

“This is Fric and this is Frac” she said with a emphasis on the names as she pointed them out to me. Her voice was slurred more than before but it was obvious to me that she was pretending to be drunker than she actually was since the new Margarita was still full. She pulled away from me and sat facing them again, looking down at her open blouse and modestly pulling it together. She didn’t, however, make any attempt at buttoning it up so that when she was finished she was almost as exposed as before.

“I’m Jerry,” said Fric, “and this is Joe. Your wife has just been telling us how you’re both pretty good at pool. We don’t play for money, but if you’d like to join us it would be our pleasure.”

Of course you would, I thought. What red-blooded man in their right mind wouldn’t? If you find a hot babe whose obviously drunk, whose tits are almost falling out of her shirt, and who’s walking around with no panties on while her husband is sitting on the crapper, it would be almost criminal not to least attempt to get her involved in a game where she would need to bend over the table from time to time in order to shoot. Even though I was too old and too shy to have ever been tempted to do it, I could easily understand their interests.

“Maybe later,” I said, ‘but right now isn’t the best of times. We’re both pretty plastered, as if you haven’t noticed, and I doubt if we’d be able to concentrate on what we were doing.”

“Any time,” he said. “If you sober up enough just let us know. Nice to meet you both.” They went back to their game of pool and left Helen and I alone again.

“That was nice of them to ask us to pool.” she said. “How come you told them no?”

“Because you’re too drunk to play,” I said. “Besides, you’d have to button up your blouse and put on your panties to play and I like you the way you are.”

“Why would I have to do that?”

“Why? Because they’d end up seeing everything you’ve got. Every time you shot you’d fall out of your blouse and without any panties you couldn’t very well lean over the table much.”

She giggled and said, “I thought that was the object of the evening. I thought you wanted me to show myself off,”

“What gave you that idea?’

“You did. Last night when we talked you said that you wanted me to loosen up and be more daring, and then earlier today, when I was trying on the clothes, you suggested I wear the blouse with four buttons undone. Well, if you’ll look I’ve got all of them unbuttoned. Are you telling me now that you DON’T want to see me show off?”

“I didn’t say that either.”

She looked at me for a long time and then said, “I thought that maybe a little peek-a-boo here and there would be enough to keep you happy but I guess I was wrong. Do you want me to be more daring or less daring? Tell me what you want.”

Suddenly I felt anger at her again. Yes, she had kept me happy, but now I was afraid of her taking it away again. It wasn’t as if I had actually asked her to do. Everything she had done had been of her own choosing. Had the one and only time that I had crossed the line - when I had put my hand inside her shirt - now branded me as some kind of monster? What right did she have to be mad at ME?

“You’re not being fair. I haven’t asked you to do anything that you weren’t prepared to do. I never told you to unbutton your shirt or to show me your tits in the bar or take your top off or anything else you did. You did that all on your own. I thought you wanted to be that way. I almost stopped you when you were flashing those cars because I was getting nervous about it, but you seemed to be having a great time so I let you keep on flashing.”

“You didn’t need to tell me to do it. I did it because I wanted to make you happy.”

“Well, thank you very much. Your very proud of the fact that you did something without being asked, and I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy it because I did, but the real bottom line is that I never got the opportunity to ask for anything, did I? The one and only time that I took the initiative and asked for anything you said no.”

“When did you ask me for anything? When did I say no?”

“I guess you’re right, I never really asked you. Or to be more correct, I didn’t ask you in words. But when we walked into the bar and I put my hand inside your shirt you removed it. Isn’t that the same thing as my asking and you’re saying ‘no’? Right now I feel like somebody who has absolutely no power at all. It’s like I’m at the mercy of what YOU want to GIVE me. I don’t have the permission to act on my own or to suggest something I’d like to see or have you do for fear that you’ll get pissed off at me.”

“So tell me. I still haven’t yet heard you say what you want. I won’t necessarily do what you want me to do, but I certainly won’t be mad. What DO you want?”

I wanted to tell her, I really did, but old habits are hard to break. Should I confess to her my fantasy? Should I tell her about the couple I had seen? Should I tell her that deep down I wanted people to watch us as we put on a live sex show for them?

“I’m getting us another Margarita. I’ll tell you when I get back.” Without waiting for her to reply I went to the bar and bought the drinks. When I came back I saw her watching the pool players again. She took the drink before I had a chance to give it to her and immediately drank half of it.

“I just want you to listen for a minute while I talk,” she said. “I don’t want you to say any thing until I’m finished.” She paused for a moment while she put together in her mind what she wanted to say. She took another drink of her Margarita and then, despite all the alcohol she had consumed, continued in a careful and thoughtful manner, “Just tell me what you want and don’t be afraid that I’ll get mad. I looked through those magazines of yours before I confronted you last night, so I’ve got a pretty good idea of how your mind works. As long as you promise me that you won’t ask me to fuck anybody but you, I’ll do whatever you want. I promised myself that tonight I would be the kind of wife you wanted, that you could have that at least once in your life, and that’s what I intend to do. Remember when I took my blouse off at the other bar and you asked me if it felt good being wicked for once? It did, and now I want to experience being nasty for once. What the FUCK, we only live once. The absolute worst thing that can happen is that we get arrested for being lewd and lascivious, right.” Her eyes were glazing over again and her emphasis on the word ‘fuck’ caught me off guard. I don’t know why, but I was beginning to feel paranoid again.