Haley's Tail Ch. 01bylittlecordelera©
This story got a little longer than I expected so I will have to complete it in parts, that is, assuming there is any interest. I should point out that I have a dirty, graphic sex sort of mind, so I write dirty, graphic sex. This first part is not so bad, though.
Of course all this is completely fictional. Who would ever imagine something like this could ever happen, right? So, any resemblance to real people or real places is completely coincidental and unintended. I don't know nothin about nothin. Fair enough?
Thank you for reading.
The First Baptist church has a large and devoted membership, but the pretty building can only be accessed through a cozy, well-manicured street called Fox Glove Lane. One spring Sunday in 2010, I was dreading the competitive traffic jam that was sure to happen as soon as Preacher Clark finished another unending sermon that slowly and painfully pressed the word "sore" into the bones of our asses - mine cute and elegant, of course. My husband, Jason, was checking scores on his phone and the kids were quietly reminding me of the rules against cruel and unusual punishment stipulated in the Geneva Conventions. I promised God I would never cheat again if he would just get us out of there in the next five minutes, but then Vanessa Hammer's son, Luke, looked over his shoulder at me, again. He was home from school with a brand new degree in Business Administration, and my goodness, he was all grown up with broad shoulders that could easily pin a woman like me, spread her supple thighs, and take whatever he wanted. He and I shared a smile, and I remembered my promise to God and tried to clear the lewd scenes from my mind.
I tried. Honest I did.
Once the service ended I stiff-armed my way out of there to search out Vanessa in the crowd. She is a neighbor of ours, about fourteen years older than me, and quite an attractive and well-dressed woman. She was recently divorced and I knew from her Facebook page that she was struggling to figure out the world of online dating. I love Vanessa to death, but even though her porch light is on, usually there's nobody home. I saw her come out a side door and I made another stiff-armed bee line. Old Walter Purvis fell down as I passed.
"Vanessa!" I called, and she turned and smiled.
"Haley! How are you?"
"I'm doing great," I said. "Just a minute." I called to my husband in the distance. "Jason! Help Walter get up!" I turned back to Vanessa. "How are you?"
"Trying to adjust," she said. "I never expected to be single at forty eight." She touched her son's strong shoulder. "Haley, you remember Luke."
"Yes," I said, and I extended a handshake. "It's nice to see you again. My goodness, you're all grown up, aren't you?" Vanessa and Luke politely laughed. "I hear that you just graduated."
"Yes, Ma'am," he said. "Now I have to find a job in a collapsed economy." He had a strong voice that fit his athletic physique and my fantasy of him ripping off my little cotton panties.
"Luck just doesn't seem to run in our family," Vanessa joked.
Looking at her tall and handsome son, I was hoping luck ran in mine.
"Oh, I'm sure you'll find something," I said to Luke. "In the meantime you should find ways to entertain yourself." I held his gaze. He briefly held mine.
"I'm hoping to do just that," he said.
I looked into the bright blue sky. "Whew, it's getting warm out here, isn't it?"
"So any great plans ahead of you?" Vanessa asked.
"Jason and I are headed to the beach for a week."
"Oh yes, Cathy told me about that."
"Thankfully, Jason's big truck needs the brakes replaced," I said. "He wanted to drive there in that oversized armored vehicle, but we'll take my minivan instead. I would much rather spend two hours in a soccer wagon that smells like McDonald's fries than to ride in anything with camouflage seats."
Vanessa laughed. "Well, if you're interested, Luke can do the brakes for you, and he'll only charge half of what the dealership charges."
"Really?" I replied, wondering if the payment had to be with money. "You know how to work on cars, Luke?"
"Yes, Ma'am," he said. "You can just call my mom if you would like me to do it."
"Hmm," I said, "I might like that very much."
Oh brother. He had his opportunity, and mine, to exchange phone numbers and he told me to call his mom. What's the old saying? "Young, dumb, and full of cum"?
"So who's watching the kids?" Vanessa asked.
"They'll stay with Jason's parents."
Vanessa looked around. "Where is Jason?"
I spied him near the main exit with his eyes on his phone and one arm holding Walter propped against the wall next to him.
"He's over there glued to the scores on that stupid phone. He was checking them during services, even. I swear, how many scores can there be?"
"A lot," Vanessa quipped. "A whole lot."
"Do you like scores, Luke?" I asked.
He thought for a minute. "Some better than others," he said.
I smiled at him. "I'm sure."
"Is this a vacation for you guys?" Vanessa asked.
With Jason's recent promotion to a regional sales position, he had to start attending the week-long national sales meetings that take place every year at a resort, which will remain unnamed, in our home state of Florida. Spouses of employees are invited and I was going along for the ride, but I had no idea what a wild ride it would turn out to be.
It's an all-male world where Jason works. The company makes a product that is used in a decidedly macho slice of American life. There are no women in sales or marketing or management - stupid - and the national sales meetings are 50 men for every one of the few wives who attend. Most wives do not attend because it is a rowdy group of shameless masculinity and they have no qualms about flirting with other men's wives, but Jason and I didn't know that when we attended our first meeting.
Guys gathered around me at every opportunity. They stood close. They brought me drinks. They drooled at my breasts. They touched me when they could. They pulled me into their golf carts, and at one point, through some deranged male logic that convinced them that I would find it appealing; they even threw me in the ice cold pool. They all got a good nipple showing, which I kind of enjoyed, but I don't normally try to be risqué with mascara running down my cheeks. They're lucky I didn't have access to a hatchet.
Except for that last stunt it was all pretty titillating stuff for a stay-at-home, PTA mom who volunteers at her kids' school. In case you can't tell, I am a proper, conservative, and faithful wife who blushes at discussions around sex.
Yeah, right, but that's how I appear on the outside and that was the presentation I initially made to the variety of flirting men vying for my attention.
My biggest fan was Zach. I met him within an hour our arriving at the resort. Jason and I were shaking hands and making introductions at the meet-and-greet in the bar and Jason needed his portfolio. I ran up to our room to get it for him and as I exited the elevator and entered the hallway, I saw a tall and powerfully built guy, cute as could be, swiping his card at the room next to ours. He had a black carry-on bag slung over one shoulder and a large suitcase standing next to him. He saw me out the corner of his eye and quickly looked, and then he did a double take. Let me tell you, the dikes of Holland could not have held back the smile that formed on my face.
"Hi," I said, as I stepped up to our door, still smiling.
"Hey," he replied with a quick smile but a rather disgruntled tone. He had chocolate brown hair that was kind of longish. I don't usually like longer hair on guys, but he was so cute! His face was pure testosterone, but he was looking around like he was angry and lost.
"Is everything okay?" I asked.
"My damn room key doesn't work," he sighed, and he looked at his luggage. "I just checked in and now I've got to carry all this downstairs and back up again."
"I know we don't know each other, but I'll watch your stuff for you while you run downstairs if you'd like."
"I can't ask you to do that," he said, "besides, I'll get back here and you will have skipped town with all my fancy clothes." He ended his joke with the coziest smile.
I looked at his feet and then moved my eyes all the way up to the top of his head, observing his tall height. "Mmm, for some reason I don't think your clothes would fit me."
He gave my even five feet a toe-to-head scan just like I had done to him. "I guess you're right," he said. "It would take three of you to fill up my pants. But maybe you'll take them for your husband."
"My husband is only five feet six," I replied. The guy raised his eyebrows in surprise. "We're a small couple," I admitted.
He held out a hand. "Zach Martillo," he said.
"Oh, I've heard that name," I told him as we shook hands. "My husband is the manager in your region. I'm Haley Morehead."
"You're Jason's wife."
"It's nice to meet you," he said.
"Nice to meet you," I replied and I pointed at his unusable room key. "Zach," I said, "why don't you wait here with your 'fancy' clothes and I'll go get another key for you."
"They are fancy," he jokingly asserted.
"Oh, I'm sure they are," I said, "you just don't wear the fancy ones when you travel, right?"
He glanced at his jeans and T-shirt.
"I like you already," he laughed. "I appreciate it, but they're not going to give you a key for my room."
"Oh yes they will. They'll give 'Mrs. Martillo' a key. You wait right here."
I could feel his eyes on my ass as I walked away and I put plenty of swing in my hips for him to enjoy. When I reached the elevator hallway, I looked back and gave him a flirty smile before I disappeared around the corner.
It was only a few minutes before I returned. Zach was checking messages on his phone as I approached.
"They wouldn't give me a key," I said.
"I told you."
I whipped my arm from behind my back. "They gave me two keys! Ha! Ha!"
He chuckled and shook his head. I stepped in front of him with a key at the ready.
"Allow me," I said. I swiped the card and opened his hotel room door. I stepped inside and held it for him. "Would you like to come in?"
He grabbed the handle on his rolling luggage and pulled it inside.
"I could get used to this," he said.
He put away his luggage while I grabbed Jason's portfolio from our room, and then I escorted Zach to the meet-and-greet. From that point forward, we became "buddies" inside a charged atmosphere of mutual attraction. He stood next to me wherever I might be, and he flirted in a masterful and devious manner. On several occasions, he made sure that Jason and I caught his eyes undressing me, and then he would casually look away just in the nick of time.
Jason, all the while, dealt with his customers, and there was always one in front of his face, but as he talked, he looked across the room or the beach or the pool, and he watched me interact with Zach and the salivating circle of hungry wolves. He didn't look angry or defensive or anything like that. Oddly, there was something titillating in his eyes, a kind of perverted voyeurism, and each time I saw him watching I felt this sort of vague underlying sexual tension.
It wasn't the first time he and I shared this strange voyeuristic situation, and so as time went on and the situation was isolated from the crowd - I didn't want to humiliate Jason - I started pushing my flirtations a little further in full view of his curious eyes. I tossed my light brown hair. I touched guys on their arm or the small of their back and I squeezed biceps. I leaned into them and I used double entendre to a shameless extent. When Jason and I would meet up, even in private, he never said anything, and as we walked to dinner that first night he considerately asked, "Are you having a good time?" His query seemed suggestive given all my flirtations.
"I'm having a great time," I said.
"Good. I like when you're having fun," he said, "but I'll stay busy with customers, so you'll have to find your own entertainment and pretend like I'm not here."
"That's not a problem."
"I'll do my thing and you do yours," he said, and then just as we were about to step into the dinner crowd he added, "I won't come looking for you."
That last sentence sounded like an agreement and I looked up at him. I wanted to ask him if he was suggesting something, but we were stepping into people, so I couldn't. It wasn't the first time in our marriage that he made comments to that effect.
Zach was already sitting at a table and he waved us over. Jason pulled out the chair for me - the one next to Zach.
"Are you going to the range tomorrow?" Jason asked Zach. He was talking about shooting sporting clays at a nearby gun club.
"Yeah," Zach said, "I'm scheduled with the one o'clock group."
"Go with us," Jason said. "I don't have anyone in my group that I know, except Haley, and she's just tagging along. You can drive the second cart."
Zach glanced at me. "Okay," he said. "What time?"
"10:00 AM. I'll change your group."
At 10:00 AM the next morning Jason split his group into two, four people per golf cart. He pulled Zach and me aside and asked Zach, "Do you mind if Haley rides with you? That gives you less strangers to deal with."
Zach looked at me with an explicit gloat. "Not a bit," he smiled. "I hope she doesn't mind a wild ride."
His conspicuous flirtation in front of Jason made my heart flutter with a touch of titillation and a touch of nervousness. But Jason offhandedly replied, "She probably prefers it that way." He slapped Zach on the shoulder. "Thanks," he said, and he walked away.
Zach raised his eyebrows and watched Jason walk away.
"Do you prefer a wild ride, Haley?" He asked.
I felt the naughty inside me that endlessly clamors to get out heat up between my thighs. "I do," I said. I began walking back to the golf carts, leaving Zach standing there. "If I can find one."
For the next few hours, seven guys and one girl drove around in the woods and stopped at different places so each guy could take his turn shooting.
That sentence sounds kind of dirty, doesn't it?
Zach and I stayed close together, but none of the other guys, except Jason, paid any attention. They were all so preoccupied with their guns that being discreet was easy, and Jason, our faithful voyeur, watched Zach and me from a distance as Zach and I flirted and touched and laughed. A few times the guys had to call Jason out of his trance.
"Jason! You're up, man, let's go!"
Jason won the shooting competition, trouncing even the second place winner. I knew that would happen. He's always loved guns and he wins all the shooting competitions. Zach, on the other hand, may have hit a few of the clays, but I told him that they are supposed to break before they hit the ground. His unskilled antics gave me a good laugh, and when we were sitting alone in the golf cart he joked, "You better stop laughing at me."
"Why?" I said. "Am I going to get punished?"
His eyes slowly scanned me from head to toe. "That's my plan," he said with a smirk.
I touched his arm and chuckled. "I hope you have better luck at dispensing punishment than you do at shooting."
The other guys called to Zach. It was his turn to shoot. He told them to go ahead; he was going to sit out that time. The next guy stepped up to the shooting position and Zach turned to me.
"Maybe you should wish me luck," he said in a low, provocative tone. My heart rate instantly doubled and I squirmed in my seat. I looked him in the eye and responded softly.
"Good luck, Zach."
Someone called out, "Pull!" (It is "pull," right?) There was a, "boom!" and then another, "boom!" Zach adjusted the growing erection in his pants. He didn't even try to hide it, and I relished the idea of making it go "boom!" Jason walked up and put his hands on top of the cart.
"Hey guys, we're almost done. Do you mind if we keep the same groups for the drive back?"
Zach glanced at me. "I was planning on it," he said.
"Jason," I said, "I was just wishing Zach good luck. Don't you want to wish Zach good luck so that he might, you know, shoot the target?"
Jason held my gaze for a second. He looked at Zach. Then he smiled a bit and said, "Good luck, Zach." He slapped him on the shoulder and walked away.
"Goodness," I said, teasingly, "even my husband wishes you luck." He adjusted his erection again. "Are you having trouble down there, Zach?" I taunted.
"I am," he said. "Can you take care of it?"
"I might need to," I sighed jokingly, "you're not very good with things that shoot."
He shook his head and mumbled to himself. "She is so going to pay. Oh man, she is going to pay."
That evening in our room, Jason and I got dressed for dinner. He stood near the corner table ironing his shirt on the ironing board. I stood in front of the full length mirror by the closet putting on makeup and avoiding the moisture in the bathroom.
"So what do you think about Zach?" Jason asked.
"He's nice," I said and left it at that.
I fussed with eye shadow. Jason pushed the iron.
"You two seem to have hit it off," he said.
"Yeah. I guess."
Jason propped the iron on its end and turned his shirt. He picked up the iron and resumed.
"I'm glad," he said, "at least I don't have to worry about you standing around bored."
I was intentionally being evasive because I wanted to see where Jason was trying to take the discussion. Given past experience I had a hunch he would push it along, so I kept my mouth shut and dug through my makeup bag. Jason turned his shirt again.
"I think he's got the hots for you, you know," he said.
"Sure looks that way." Jason propped the iron again and the steam spit and hissed. "But I don't mind." He added.
Now the discussion was getting interesting, so I gave it a little push.
"He's very good looking, you know," I said.
"That's what I hear. Probably gets him a lot of women."
"Hmm," I said, fussing with my eyes in the mirror, "lucky girls."
Jason looked up, watched me for a second or two, and then he went back to ironing.
"You think so?" He asked.
"Think so, what?"
"That they're lucky girls?" He said.
"Like I said, he's quite good looking. He's got that masculine, sort of, dominant quality."
"He's a big guy," he said. "You always liked big guys."
The "proper wife" part of me said I should tell my husband that I liked his size just fine and no one was going to take his place, but the "reckless sexual wife" part of me said he didn't want to hear that.
"I do like big strong guys," I said, "especially good looking ones." I kept my eyes on the mirror. My heart rate began to increase and the sexual tension in the room was getting as hot as the steam hissing from the iron.
"I guess you're in luck then," he said.
I turned to Jason, but he wouldn't look up. His little game of encouragement was getting bold.
"I guess I am."
Jason would not make eye contact, so I went back to my makeup. He continued to iron and soon he was done. He stepped around the table and unplugged the iron.
"Well, I'm going to be busy all week," he said, "you'll have to do your own thing."
"I know. You told me. I don't mind."
Jason was pulling his shirt off the ironing board. "I won't come looking for you."
I lowered my hands and turned to him. "Jason," I said, "are you trying to tell me something?"
"What?" He was acting all innocent as if he suddenly had a hearing problem, but he looked a little embarrassed. I turned back to the mirror.
"Nothing," I said. "Never mind."
I wore a floral sundress and some sandals with a little bit of heel that night. Pretty tame compared to the way I always feel, but I am a church-going, PTA mom, remember? I sat next to Zach again, but Jason didn't have to put me there. It was understood among the three of us that I would. Afterwards, everyone stood in the crowded hallway outside of the hotel ballroom where we had just eaten. Groups formed and talked and sipped drinks. Jason was cornered by two new dealers, and I was cornered by three guys including Zach.