Atonement

Beth continued, her blouse finally hanging limply at her shoulders. She crossed her arms, trying to keep as much closed as possible. As she did, she realized it only served to accentuate her cleavage. Mark seemed pleased at that. She wasn't sure whether to be more embarrassed at the 'plain jane' maidenform bra she had grabbed, or thankful that it's stoic design covered the darkness of her areolae. She suspected in time it wouldn't matter.

The blouse soon came off. The contrast between her undress and Mark's Brooks Brothers' propriety struck her, illuminating her sense of exposure. Those damn flourescent lights, she thought. So unforgiving.

She was relieved when Mark suggested she step out of her pumps. While the heel was nearly non-existent, standing in them made her feel . . . well . . a bit like a 'dancer." She could only imagine, having never ventured into such an establishment.

Mark renewed his "beach suit" analogy, in instructing her to slide down her hose. The bright red indentations they left at her waistline made her self-conscious. The beach, right! Mark was a liar, she thought, trying to find some humor in this. No bikini could possibly leave her feeling this 'naked.' Marks eyes were focused, almost in awe. Beth noticed he was trying visibly to restrain his breathing.

The sight made her a bit flushed. She could hardly recall inducing this effect in Bill. At best, it was a distant memory. Sex was always 'comfortable' with Bill. Occasionally energetic, but hardly torrid. Bill's had always a gentlemanly interest. While pleasant, it stopped short of 'lust.'

Mark had her turn once again. Beth's breathing increased. Was it the cold air? Or something else? Beth looked to note that her nipples were visible through her cups. She was always sensitive to that, especially after the kids came. Loose clothing solved the problem, usually. But, now! It was as if her nipples were blaring in neon.

Mark had her sit in the chair. A relief. Beth's legs were getting wobbly with from the embarrassment and adrenaline. "Please take off your bra, Beth." Curiously, the instruction did not strike her as outrageous. She looked at Mark, saw the sadness in his eyes. She kept her focus on him, slowly moving, delaying her actions. Like a snake charmer lulling the Cobra into a trance. She slowly reached behind, undid the snaps, holding the cups in place with her hands. "Is this what you want to see, Mark? Bill's wife's breasts?"

Mark's mouth opened slightly; his breathing now unrestrained. Her breasts alternated between B and C cup, depending on her weight. Their former perkiness had given way a bit to the rigors of childbirth and feeding, but their basic shape was still holding. But overall Beth wasn't that sensitive about her breasts. But nor did she imagine being in this position!

Beth held him in trance for a moment, then slowly lowered the bra, revealing just a hint of her large, dark brown areolae. Mark froze, his gaze fixated. A slight "Oh, yes" escaped his lips. Beth moved the bra at glacial speed, pausing again just as her nipples were to be exposed. Mark sat and leaned closer, straining, wanting to see them. As she lower the bra, they sprung free. Mark groaned.

Beth tossed the bra to the floor. She brushed her hair back, her breasts jutting slightly as her elbows rose. "Please . . . now your panties," Mark instructed. His hand rested on his crotch. Beth noticed the bulge in Mark's suit. As her arms lifted, Mark's hand moved along his crotch. A voice deep within her urged her to do it again. She brushed her hair back farther, leaning towards Mark with her chest. Beth hadn't made such an overt 'offering' of her chest since breast feeding days. She giggled a bit inside at the comparison.

Mark's hand moved more vigorously, his eyes transfixed on Beth's chest. He looked up into her eyes; an urgent, intense look. Beth kept his gaze; the two speaking in looks and gestures. Mark reached down with his other hand, and gently tugged on his belt buckle. He made no effort to stand or move from the sofa, Beth observed, as if her was purposefully keeping a polite distance.

As Mark continued, Beth became the observer. His pants lay open, and Beth could more clearly see the shape of his penis through his boxers. "Penis" was her mind's term of choice. Early on in their relationship, she and Bill uttered an occasional 'cock' or 'pussy.' But after marriage, they use more oblique references and pet names.

Beth now became intensely focused. It wasn't as if Beth hadn't seen her share of erect penises. A series of boyfriends in high school and college had satisfied her basic curiosity. The thought of other men's genitals occurred periodically in her fantasies, but wasn't directed any at specific person. On occasion, when the subject of sex came up among her friends (usually after a few glasses of white zinfandel), she would picture their husbands. But that was just something frivolous, "among friends" she would think. It wasn't that she really desired any of them. She was quite content with Bill. But a fleeting thought at what her friends might be enjoying wasn't so terrible, was it?

Mark ran his hand up along the shaft line, pausing at the top of his boxers. His eyes locked on Beth's, as if telling her 'follow me.' Beth had been sitting demurely back in her chair. She hesitated, then allowed her hands to move down from her stomach and rest near her panties. Beth waited. Her sense of anticipation surprised her. It was almost a schoolgirl's sense of expectation . . . playful, wide-eyed, uncertain. Mark peeled back his boxers, pulling down on the waistband. The head of his cock poked out. He looked at Beth, pleased to see her calm and curiosity. He lower the boxers further, exposing nearly the full shaft.

The thought of being in this situation would have, only a few hours earlier, been completed unimaginable to Beth. It would have been hard enough for her to imagine doing it with her husband. Mark lifted his hips, sliding his pants and boxers to mid-calf. He sat back, rigid, watching Beth. Beth had gotten accustomed to being topless. Her unease returned when she realized that it was her "turn." The thought of another man seeing that part of her! A brief shudder enveloped her. After a long pause, she stood up, turned slightly to limit a direct view, and slid down her panties. She stepped out of them, then discreetly sat down again, legs tight together.

Mark touched himself. Even though Beth knew in her mind that was coming, it still shocked her. Bill would do that on occasion. But it was when he was right next to her, usually on those rare times he needed a little 'boost' to help his erection. "Priming the pump" he called it.

Beth watched. She studied him, enjoying the subtle differences between Mark and Bill. Mark took himself firmly in hand, and began to stroke. He looked at Beth, his blue eyes locking onto her. His focus there made it easier for Beth to relax. She allowed her weight to shift back so that she was seated facing him directly. Mark kept his look, a soft smile forming at the edges of his mouth. Beth's legs relaxed, her hand reaching down, fingers running down through her dark triangle. She was trusting Mark not to look just yet, trying hard not to break their stare.

Her fingers found their mark. Since marriage, Beth had felt a little funny about masturbation. It's not like she didn't think Bill didn't do it, nor would she be bothered if he did. But all the same it was hard for her to be open about it herself. They had a bit of a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy, she'd joke to herself. The shower was a favorite of hers. Alone, Bill and the kids gone. The detachable shower head worked wonders. For Beth it was more about the 'feeling.' Few specific fantasies. She felt odd if the fantasy became too specific or focused on a particular person. But, now, to be watched! By Bill's boss! And to see him! Her heart was pounding.

Beth and Mark eyed each other. There was a distance between them, yet such an intimacy. Beth felt like she was inside of him, feeling his torment; feeling his desire. Beth was aware she was quite aroused; the fear, the embarrassment, the adrenaline, had heightened her senses completely. The slightest movement of her hand sent currents flowing through her.

Beth touched herself gingerly a first. She could sense the moisture building in her. Her middle finger press into her lips, allowing her to feel what she already sensed. Beth leaned back, thankful for the low back on the chair with allowed her head to arch back. She let her legs part further, freeing room for her hand. And allowing Mark a more intimate view of her. That thought made the adrenaline course through her being.

Long ago, Beth had read a story in a woman's journal--the basic supermarket variety--on sex and fantasies. One writer had recalled her experience of being observed in masturbation. Beth had found herself mildly amused in reading it; some of the stories seemed 'concocted' at times. But that image of the woman baring herself that way stuck in her mind. On occasion, Beth had projected herself into that scene. The idea of it becoming reality was never on her mind. The sense of forbiddenness seemed lost if she imagined Bill in the scene. And, as for any other . . . well, it was just to otherworldly to think about.

Mark smiled again, broke his gaze and looked directly at her open legs. Beth tensed for a moment. He looked back up; part smile, part desire. Beth closed her eyes a moment to relieve the intensity of his gaze. She focused on the pleasure she was feeling, the sense of shared adventure. The boldness inside herself she felt years ago flowed up and out of her.

Among her friends she was teased for being the most straight-laced. Not that most were that daring, but hints and details were passed among 'the girls' now and then. But one--Catherine--could be embarrassingly forward in describing her sex life. Embarrassing to others at least; Catherine didn't seem to mind. The tune to a song drifted through her head. What's the line she thought? Something like " . . . if my friends could see me now . ." A pity I can't tell them about this" Beth thought, smiling to herself.

She looked up to see Mark vigorously pleasuring himself. He gave her another pleading look. Beth pulled her legs back, the tension inside her building. She closed her eyes again.A montage of images and emotions flooded Beth's mind. Her inner being seeming to open up, releasing its hidden contents of dreams, fears, aspirations, and fantasies . . . She had not often imagined being in a sexual situation with another man. The newness of the experience--being exposed, open, performing--was overwhelming, intensely erotic.

The distractions in her mind allowed the tension inside her to build, without her becoming self-conscious of it. The contractions began to build, coming in small waves, then growing and growing. Her hand moved faster, her middle finger plunging inside her, the lower pad of her thumb pressed hard into her clitoris. Moving, rocking, circling. She clenched her teeth and momentarily resisted the imminent climax. The fear of losing control took hold, but only briefly. The resistance seemed to enhance her climax, the waves of pleasure continuing to build and overwhelm her. Her cries came softly, then louder. Her body tensed as she arched back, extending her body towards Mark . . .. lifting, opening, offering . . .

She looked over at Mark, softening her touch upon herself. Mark, who seemingly had paused to observe Beth's orgasm, renewed his intensity. Their eyes locked again. Beth looked deep inside of him, trying to understand what passions . . what demons . . . led him to this. Bill's face contorted. A guttural cry arose from deep within him, as spurts of milky white semen poured out. His hands then slowed, bit by bit. His body seemed to deflate before her eyes, sinking deeply into the sofa. Beth again sat meekly, retrenching her legs, curling up on the chair. Mark gave her one last soft look. Then he arose, and without bothering to clean himself off, pulled up his pants and shorts.
He walked quietly to the door and turned to Beth, talking in a somber, soft tone. "Be assured, Beth, that no one will ever know about his. I've given my notice of resignation to the company. I'm transferring out of state in two weeks."

Beth remained silent, not sure what to say. Mark continued "I've already recommended Bill as my successor. I'm not sure if that will happen or not, but I do wish you both well."

He reached for the door. "It was incredible." He, paused, looking at her. "Take care, Beth." With that he disappeared out the door.

Beth arrived back home at 1:00, but it seemed like days since she had left. She retrieved the mail from the box, and headed inside. The silence inside the home was profound, broken only by one ticking grandfather clock. She walked upstairs to the bedroom, entered the bath, and turned the shower faucet to high. She entered the closet, quicky slipping out of her clothes. As she walked back into the bathroom, her reflection in the mirror startled her. She stopped, turning her head. Peeking back at her was the shadow of a 24 year old she hadn't seen in years. Beth smiled back. She reached for the glass shower door, opened it, and disappeared into the enveloping cloud of steam . . . .