Control

This time instead of thanking PapaGus for his editing prowess, I also thank him for the plot for this one. When he was editing "Ginger Snaps" he asked me e-mailed me this idea. I had an outline done and planned a shorter story than what I ultimately produced. During the time I was writing this, I also wrote a story for the Friendly Anonymous Writing Challenge, or FAWC, as it has come to be known, and I had two other pieces to write for another project.

So Gus, here is your idea brought to life. Thank you my friend, Saxon Hart

"Are you getting out of here on time?"

I looked up to see my boss Barry Masters looking into my office. He wore the same cheesy grin he always wore on the nights that he would be coming to my house for dinner. He enjoyed rubbing it in that he was going to fuck my wife.

I guess I should start at the beginning. My name is Bill Jaczwenski, pronounced Jacks-win-ski. Most people know me as Billy Jack, or just Jacko. I am a 35 year old account executive for a small time piss ant advertising agency in Houston Texas.

Now being an account executive in one of the large New York, or Los Angeles agencies would mean a lot of power and responsibility, not to mention money and respect. At BM and Sons it just means that I handle everything while Barry sits on his fat ass and reads those horrid bodice ripper novels. As if it isn't bad enough that he reads these books meant for lonely and bored housewives, he has to masturbate after he reads the love scenes.

So here's this douche bag sticking his head in my office asking if I am getting out of here on time, when he knows damn good and well that I will be. Since he hired Amy, an intern with an awesome set of tits, and an ass to match, leaving the office on time has been no problem at all. But since tonight is "the night" I told him I had a few things to finish up and that I would be out in half an hour.

"Fine. I'll go eat at The Royal Fork, but I expect you and Lynn to be ready when I get there. And Jacko, I do mean "ready."

"Ready" meant Lynne was to be naked and I was to be wearing my chastity device. I know most males wouldn't consider me to be a "real man" but I do what I have to do to survive.

I met my wife Lynne ten years ago at a Christmas party given by a local bank. They were Barry's largest client and their dedication to us is what mainly kept the agency afloat. Since I was the one who mainly handled their account I was invited to the party as well. Lynne was a teller in their drive up only branch.

I spent the evening making small talk with some of the personnel that I knew from my dealings with them. I was talking to the manager of the loan department about a planned golf outing they had planned for shortly after Christmas. It seemed that his usual partner was going through a rough divorce and had in fact been assaulted with his own clubs. Since Barry closed our office from Christmas Eve until New Year's Day, I agreed to play.

As I was talking golf with the group who were attending the golf outing, I began to notice a few women were gravitating towards our little gathering. We were discussing our handicaps when a well-developed blonde spoke up. "Hey Bob. Why haven't any of the tellers been asked to this outing?"

She was wearing the proverbial little black dress. Her bosom was truly testing the limits of its bodice and my eyes were locked on like a hawk on a field mouse. I almost didn't realize she was talking directly to me when she asked, "So what's your handicap?"

Now I am no neurosurgeon. Nor am I any kind of expert on the functions of the human brain. So I cannot explain why the only word to fly out of my mouth in response to her golf question was "Great tits."

Guffaws of laughter came from everywhere. I could feel my face turning red. "That's fuckin funny," said someone. "Damn why can't I come up with original answers like that?" asked someone else. The girl in the black cocktail dress and "fuck me" pumps gave a chuckle and then said, "Well I guess you will be in the traps all day."

Luckily I had the presence of mind to play it off as a joke. "I seriously doubt I'll spend all day in the traps. Not many scratch golfers do."

"Wow! Are you considered a scratch?" asked Bob.

"No, but it sounded good." This brought another round of laughter. I didn't bother telling them that I had been close to going to Q school before I got hired by Barry.

The conversation turned back to golf and I felt relieved that I hadn't made a complete ass out of myself. Barry might not have liked it much if I had. Soon the group went separate directions and I found myself back at the bar.

"Care to buy my tits a drink?"

I turned to find myself looking into the ice blue eyes of the little black dress' owner. "No, but I will buy their owner one as an apology for my Freudian slip."

She laughed and we talked the rest of the night away. When the party was over she kissed me good night and headed for her car. "I'll see you at the golf course sir. Just wait until you see what I wear."

I swallowed hard as I imagined her in some tight shorts, or a miniskirt bending over to pick her ball out of the cup."If her ass was anything like her tits, the golf outing might be better than a porno."I thought to myself as I waved good bye.

I figured that Barry and his wife Joan were off fucking whom ever. The only reason they ever went to these things was to find new fuck buddies. I wondered if they ever fucked each other, and I had my doubts that Barry was truly the father of all of his sons that no one has ever met.

During the first month that I worked for Barry, Joan propositioned me four different times. In the end my morals and the fear that Barry would fire me won out and I never took Joan up on her offers. Truth be known I was probably also saved from a few social diseases.

Wednesday morning I went to the golf club and found the group from the bank. The day was damp and chilly so I felt sure that everyone would be in long pants rather than shorts. Having been born and raised in Wyoming, I wore shorts 90% of the year. Unless I was at work of course

Half of the people from the party didn't show up. They were trying to figure out how to divide up 13 people when I walked up.

"Billy! Damn glad you came," Bob said as he greeted me. "We thought we would have five or six foursomes, but as you can see, we are well short of that number. Do you mind playing in a twosome?"

I told him that I didn't mind playing in a twosome. I was profoundly disappointed that Lynn wasn't among the attendees. I was told that I would be in a twosome with Jerry Montez, a commercial loan officer, but when a member of the first foursome wasn't there at their scheduled tee time, Bob asked Jerry to go join them.

My new partner still wasn't there as the second group was about to take the tee box. Just as Bob was trying to figure out what to do he exclaimed "Ok, here's your partner Billy. Try to stay out of the traps." As the group began laughing I turned to see my partner approaching.

"Sorry. I got hung up trying to buy tees." I turned and found myself face to face with Lynn. She was wearing a purple fleece pullover and heavy knit yoga pants. While the pull over hid any hint of cleavage, the pants definitely displayed her curves. "Where is everyone?" she asked.

"First group is probably on the green by now," said Bob. "Do you mind playing in a twosome with Billy here?"

She gave me a wink. "Not as long as he brought his money."

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. We bet on everything. Usually during a foursome we bet drinks, or stunts, or whatever anyone is willing to bet. High stroke counts cost a person drinks at the turn." explained Bob.

"I hope you brought enough money Billy," she said. I didn't say anything.

Bob was laughing as he teed up on the white box. He hit what looked like a respectable drive and then the foursome was on their way down the fairway. Lynn and I made our way onto the tee box.

"Ladies first," I said as she bent over to place her tee. I was admiring the shape of ass as she bent over to make her set up.

"Stop staring at my ass pervert!" Damn! Did she have eyes in the crack of her ass?

"I wasn't even looking your way. I was watching your colleague hacking away in the rough over there." She stood up and looked down the fairway, where a guy was swinging wildly in the long grass about a hundred yards away.

"Oh," she said. 'I didn't mean that you're a perv by the way. I just figured that you were.."

"Yeah you figured I was staring at your delectable ass, I know."

She gasped, "Oh! So you were. I'm going to have to keep an eye on you buster. Just so fair's fair, I get to stare at you while you tee up."

"Ok," I chuckled. "I think you can go ahead and drive now, they are on the green."

She swung and drove the ball about 170 yards and turned to me with a smirk. "Top that Mr. Nice Tits."

I stepped up to the black tee box and set my ball and tee. "And if I top that, what do I get?" I asked.

"If you outdrive me from there, I'll play the back nine in my tight white shorts and tank top," she said wiggling her ass. I felt my cock beginning to rise and had to fight it. I had never driven with a boner so I didn't know how it would affect my swing.

I gulped audibly, and addressed my ball. Then she started cheating. While I was aligning myself she was making comments about my ass. Then she said she'd make me play the back nine in my underwear. Fortunately I was able to tune her out and hit a 280 yard drive that bent around the dog leg and came up 50 yards shy of the green. I turned and said, "I know your ass will look fantastic in them shorts."

All she could say was, "Shit!"

Needless to say I enjoyed watching her play golf in her tight white shorts and tank top. I also ended up not paying for our first three dates. Three months later we were an exclusive couple.

I found out early on that she thought that Barry was a jerk off. We were finishing dinner when she asked if there were any women in my office. Thinking that she was worried that I had a wandering eye I told her that the only woman was Jane, a 65 year old grandmother who basically answered phones and made coffee.

"I bet the creep ogles her chest anyway," Lynne said and chuckled.

I laughed when a mental image of Barry checking out Jane's rack hit my head. I pictured her slapping him with the big ass purse she carried with her everywhere.

I Lynne's parents at Thanksgiving. They flew in from San Diego and spent the week with her. I met them Thanksgiving morning and we all had the dinner that she and her mother had prepared. After dinner I offered to bring her a slice of pie. I instead returned from the kitchen with a ring on a pie plate and I proposed to her.

George Carlin once mused that people don't seem to get laid much at Thanksgiving. He definitely wasn't there that Thanksgiving. Once Lynne's parents had returned to their hotel, she proceeded to fuck my brains out.

We were married on a boat in Galveston that following May. My parents bought me a house in an upscale section of Pasadena as a pre-wedding gift. "That way if you end up in divorce court, you still have a roof, sonny boy," were my dad's words of wisdom as he handed me the keys.

I told them that divorce wasn't in my future but thanked them for the forethought. Lynne and I moved in after our honeymoon and settled into our life. During our first four years of marriage I could never complain about our sex life. Other aspects of our life, however, left a lot to be desired.

When Lynne and I got together, she was barely making ends meet. I assumed that was because she didn't make a lot as a bank teller. As they say, when you assume, you make an ass out of u and me.

I allowed Lynne to handle our finances for the first six months of our marriage. I figured that since she worked in a bank, she'd be good with money. I was wrong! It took me a year and a half to get us back to even afterwards. I was constantly paying the shut off notices rather than the utility bills. We had several long discussions and quite a few arguments. I even spent several nights on the couch.

Eventually our raises and my fiscal head got us a tidy savings built up, but it didn't last. Within two years we were back to struggling. Her paycheck covered most of her credit card bills. My salary went to pay everything else. Barry wasn't paying me near enough so I was getting ready to start spreading my resume around in hopes of a better paycheck, but I knew most reputable agencies won't count small time experience.

The week it all turned to shit started out just like any other week. After paying the bills, I had managed to buy food for the week and fill our gas tanks. I had even managed to tuck away a few bucks in case it was needed.

Work was fairly normal Monday morning until Barry called Walt into his office. I couldn't tell what was being said but I could hear Walt's voice gaining in intensity. In minutes they were screaming at each other. The only thing I definitely heard was Walter telling Barry that Marion and Joan were both worthless whores and that he hoped that Barry's cock would rot off.

I had no clue who Marion was, but Barry seemed to take his wife being called a whore in stride; probably because it was true. As Walt stormed out of Barry's office he made a b-line for my desk. As soon as he started approaching me, Barry was telling Jane to call the police. Walt got to my desk and said, "You better watch your back Jacko!"

I was about to ask Walt what the fuck I had done to him when Barry screamed at him to leave or he would press charges. Walt looked at him and yelled "Fuck you, you dickless son of a bitch," as he headed out the door.

"You better watch your back Jacko!" For the rest of the day Walt's words would play through my mind. So much to the point that I was dwelling on them and almost got killed by a fast moving truck as I got off of the beltway onto the feeder. I am grateful that his brakes worked better than my brain, or I'd have been a statistic.

When I got home the first thing that struck me was that Lynne was already home. Usually she worked until seven. I walked into the house to find her lounging on a new white couch. That couch had not been in my living room that morning when I had left for work; neither had the matching love seat and easy chairs.

"Hey baby," she said. "You like? I called off work today and went shopping at that new furniture store over in the Galleria. I fell in love with this set and bought them on the spot. Are you mad honey?"

"Were they free?"

She scoffed. "As if. I got a good deal though for opening a new account with the store. I got us good payments."

All I could do was smile. I knew that if I opened my mouth a torrent of vulgarity would flow and we'd have a war all night. Instead I smiled and went into the den to figure out just how bad she'd just made things.

After I'd figured it all out I knew there was no way I could take a pay cut to move to a new job. I hated the idea that I was going to have to slave for fuckin Barry. The only upside was the fact that after Lynne bought something like this I got some pussy. I might just take her ass for this.

After dinner we were sitting on her expensive purchase watching TV when I started making my moves. I started sucking her earlobes and trying to work a hand under her skirt when she stopped me dead in my tracks.

"Uh uh lover boy. We aren't doing anything on this couch, but if you take me to bed you can take me back there." She must have been a mind reader.

I was pretty much worn out when I made it to work the next morning. My head was still stuck on the sight of my Lynne flat on her stomach with a pillow under her hips, and my cock buried between her delightful ass cheeks.

I had pounded her into a sweaty ball of whimpering jelly before I was done. I was sure that she'd call off of work or call in late. She usually did after an all-night fuck fest like that.

I was tired but a few cups of coffee had me running full steam when Barry got to work that day. He gave me a funny glance as he went to his office. I never paid much attention to Barry so the look didn't mean anything to me.

Ten minutes later a most striking young lady walked into the office. Jane greeted her. "Can I help you ma'am?"

"AH yes. I'm Amy Stewart and I have a nine o'clock with a Mr. Barry Masters."

Jane picked up the phone and spoke. Then she hung up and said, "You may go on in Ms. Stewart," as she pointed to Barry's office.

I called Lynne later on. She was at home as I figured she'd be. "You didn't go to work baby?" I asked her. I was mildly annoyed but also a bit proud.

"I called in and said I'd be late," she replied. "Someone wore me out last night. Is that someone ready to wear me out again tonight?"

"You know he is baby," I said. After a few minutes we hung up. I was setting an ad up when Barry came out with the young lady in tow.

"Amy, this is Jacko, we call him Jacko because his name is too damn hard to pronounce. Jacko, this is Amy. She's taking Walt's place and will be following you around for the next few days." With that he turned and made his way back into his office.

"Bill Jaczwenski, but please feel free to call me Jacko."

"Amy Stewart," she said as she offered me her hand. I had the insane urge to kiss it like in the movies. "Can I call you Bill?"

I told her she could indeed call me Bill, and we set about the tasks of the day. I showed her the ropes and tried damn hard not to stare at her. Her scent was intoxicating. Of course I wasn't too surprised that Barry had to keep coming out and sticking his nose in.

I had at first worried that Barry might have hired Amy because she was a knock out. She soon proved to quite a smart woman who knew her way around the ad game. I was curious why she'd be in a Podunk shit-hole agency like Barry's when she could have easily been a star on Madison Avenue.

I went home that night and fucked Lynne again. We didn't pull the all-nighter like the previous night but we finished just as sweaty. I was pretty clear headed when I went to work the next morning.

Shortly before noon Barry called me into his office. I could tell he was irate but I hadn't a clue why. "You fucked up Jacko."

"I fucked up? What..how?"

He pulled an ad for a car lot I had worked on and showed me. They were going to hold a drawing for $500.00. I remembered the ad well. When he showed me the ad it said the drawing was for $5000.00. Alan, who owned the lot was livid and was threatening to pull his account.

"I got him calmed down and we are printing a revised ad as we speak. I ought to fire you on the spot Jacko but I have a better idea. I want to meet you at your house tonight for dinner; I like fish by the way. I want to discuss this with you and Lynn before I decide what to do about you. I'll be there at 6:00."

I had no idea why the asshole wanted to involve my wife but I knew she hated him and would most likely do whatever she could to spite him. I didn't give it much more thought as the day went by.

"What does that asshole want me to do?" asked Lynne when I told her all about my foul up and Barry's idea.

"Dirty old prick probably just wants to stare at your tits for a while tonight, or wants us to join them for a swapping party."

"I'll cut your cock off before I ever let you fuck Joan Masters, buddy boy. And I am sure that if I ever saw Barry Masters naked I'd want to gouge my eyes out with a rusty spoon," she said as she shuddered.

I shuddered. "I'd cut myowncock off before I'd fuck her."

Dinner was good. I was a little pissed off that Barry kept eye-balling my wife. I noticed that she kept moving in ways to avoid giving him a decent look at her body. She'd even wore a long sleeved turtle neck sweater despite the late spring heat.