Just Imagine It

It was his partner that surprised me, not Sheila his wife, but a very pretty young teenage girl, with long golden hair, and long shapely legs that wouldn't have looked out of place on a super model.

"Hi Tim," she greeted me, and I did a double take.

"Hi," I replied wondering who this girl in her early teens could be.

"Hello Tim," Tod greeted me, not unfriendly, but with little warmth. "Ready for another beating are you."

"Oh Dad," the young girl reprimanded him. "Don't be so miserable."

That's who it was of course, his daughter who I had babysitted when she was younger.

"Golly you've grown up since I last saw you." I told her, which as my wife pointed out later was the worst thing you can say to a youngster, but at least I had the pleasure of seeing Tod scowl, and she didn't actually seem to mind too much.

Won't bore you with the details of the game, but suffice to say, that at one set all, I served for the match. I aced Tod three times, and though his daughter got my serve back a couple of times we took the match.

Sweet revenge, small though it was.

As previously, he didn't take it well, grudgingly accepting my offer of a drink after the match, and buying us one back, though he didn't hang around to chat.

"Can't see why you don't like him," remarked Janice, knowing that there was no love lost between us, but not knowing the reason why.

I shrugged my shoulders as he was no longer a threat, but maybe I should have told her then. Maybe it might have saved some heartache.

My business prospered over the next few years, Janice proving to be an able partner in the business as well as a wonderful wife. Our sex life was always pretty good as well, always making sure we made time for one another despite our hectic life style. We hadn't got round to having kids, but we both somehow knew that they would come along when we were ready.

We used to take frequent holidays, often to sporty resorts like La Manga in Spain, or one of our favourites, Le Manoir de Longeveau in South West France.

By then Janice was nearly thirty, and more beautiful than ever. She loved to flirt a little like many women do when on holiday given the chance, but it never worried me in the least. I ran my own business and considered myself a good judge of personality, and as far as I was concerned my Janice was one of the best.

She loved dancing, and though I wasn't so keen, I loved to watch her having fun. One of our little games, that certainly spiced up our sex life, was to let her flirt with some guy on the dance floor for part of the evening, pretending maybe she was there on her own. She often left it up to me when to call it a day, and just occasionally I let her go a little bit further, especially if she signaled to me that she was really enjoying herself, and the guy didn't look too serious a threat.

I didn't mind her cuddling up to them as the danced, and even a quick feel of her ass. I know for a fact that some of them had stolen a kiss, and suspected that more than one had squeezed her breasts, though she never admitted to it. Anyway I was never the jealous type, maybe my experience with Fiona had taught me that. And it was always me that got the benefit of her pent up feelings afterwards, when we got back to the privacy of our room.

It just worked for us, and though she made it clear she would be furious if I did the same with other women, I somehow personally never felt threatened.

She never went too far, and I never complained.

It kept her interest in herself fresh for me, and I guess it kept me on my toes.

If she had gone any further than I was happy with however, then she well knew what the consequences would be, and I made a point of reminding her of that from time to time.

Only once on holiday did she overstep the mark, but I suppose that had to happen now I look back on it.

We were at Longeveau for maybe our fourth or fifth visit, and had gone down to the lovely old village of Aubeterre where there was music playing in the old square. It was a warm evening and Janice wore a skimpy white dress that flared from the waist till it ended about mid thigh, her long, bare, sun-tanned legs looking superb in her casual high heeled sandals. The top of the dress seemed to float round her breasts, covering them, but almost suggesting otherwise.

The dress had cost a fortune in a London boutique, but it was worth it as far as I was concerned, as she just looked an absolute dream.

I really didn't want her to that night, when she asked me if she could go and find someone to flirt with on the square where they were dancing. She just looked too gorgeous, too vulnerable in that slip of a dress.

"I'd prefer you just stayed with me," I told her, almost feeling guilty at spoiling her fun.

"Oh come on Tim," she replied merrily. "Let me go have a bit of fun ___ You'll enjoy it, and know you'll get the benefit afterwards. You know you can trust me."

I knew I could of course, but that dress ____ She just looked so bloody fantastic that my chest tightened at the thought of some other guy holding her close. It wasn't her that I didn't trust, but I knew how I would feel if a woman like that flirted with me, and I didn't trust a single one of the men round the square not to try it on with her if given the chance.

She leant over and kissed me, laughing as she skipped off, assuming that I'd acquiesced, even though I still really hadn't.

As I suspected they were like bees round a honey pot, and she danced with man after man, not allowing any of them more than a couple of dances, and throwing me frequent smiles to prove she hadn't forgotten me, and was still in control. Janice even pulled a funny face at me a few times as if to signal to me that it wasn't her fault whenever some guy tried to hold her too close, or slide his hands too obviously to cup her shapely bottom.

I was actually enjoying her having fun, not minding that some of them were dancing very close to her as there didn't seem to be anyone special.

After forty minutes or so, she broke off from some French guy she was dancing with and came over and asked me to get her another drink. My own glass was empty, so I kissed her briefly on the lips and went off to the bar at the Hotel de France to get a beer for me, and a white wine for her. Of course it was crowded, it took me sometime to get served, and by the time I got back Janice was nowhere to be seen.

It didn't worry me of course.

Well not for ten minutes it didn't, and a short while later I got up from the table to go and find where she'd got to, but she was nowhere to be seen on the square.

Toilets, I thought, but she would have had to pass me to get to them.

Oh shit!

That French guy, the young one in the tight tee shirt that she'd been dancing with before she'd asked me for the drink. Janice had danced with him several times during the night, and I couldn't see him either.

One and one suddenly seemed to add up to about twelve.

I started to get desperate, rushing round the square, trying not to look too obvious to those around me, but my panic mounting the longer I couldn't find her. My imagination running riot as to what they might be up to. I told myself I was being silly, that I could trust her but could I trust him. But my head was in a spin, and my insides knotting up, as the tension and the fear got to me.

Images of my humiliating time with Fiona flashed through my brain.

Oh Christ where are you Janice? Please show yourself.

Then I caught a glimpse of white fabric in the shadows, down one of the dark lanes, and I didn't know whether to rejoice or explode.

Janice, my Janice, was stood there in the arms of that bloody Frenchman, her breasts squashed up against his chest, one of her legs coquettishly raised behind her from the knee, in a classic romantic clinch.

Some men might get turned on by catching their wives canoodle with another man, but not me, not on that occasion!

"What the hell's going on," I shouted as I bounded down upon them, my chest tightening as I realized they were kissing.

The young French guy pulled away from her and squared up to me as I approached. He was bigger than I had realized, and looked pretty fit.

"No Serge," Janice cried out to him, pulling him back. "It's my husband."

"Merd Alors," the young guy said, backing off, very obviously lost as to what to do.

As I stood there waiting for his reaction, Janice reached up to him, kissed him quickly on the cheek, and walked up to me.

"Come on Tim," she told me, taking my arm. "We'd better be going."

I bristled _____ I Wouldn't move and stood my ground.

"What was going on?" I demanded angrily.

"Nothing. Nothing at all," insisted Janice, and the Frenchman gave me gallic shrug, the look of disappointment plain on his face.

"Bon nuit Serge," Janice called to him, tugging me away from the conflict, and I allowed myself to be dragged away back up the lane.

The drive back to our holiday cottage was in silence. Janice wanted to talk, but I shut her up, till we got back.

"What the bloody hell do you think you were playing at," I shouted at her when we were safely back indoors.

"Nothing," claimed my wife, close to tears. "I was just teasing you____ Part of our game ___ I didn't mean any harm."

"So why were you hiding down that dark lane." I challenged her.

"We weren't," Janice shot back. "We weren't___ Oh Christ I'm sorry _____ Maybe we.... Well maybe I ..... Oh Christ I didn't mean to upset you Tim."

"Sorry Janice," I pressed her. "What good is sorry, when I've found you in the arms of another man."

"I wasn't," she mumbled. "Well I was, but not how you think ___ we weren't ____ Well we hadn't done anything. Just kissed that's all."

"Janice," I said, as calmly as I was able, trying to hold my temper in check. "Your dress is still undone! ____Your fucking tits are nearly hanging out!"

"Oh God Tim," she burst out; the tears streaming down her face as she hastily re-arranged the top of her dress. "I was having such a good time, and I thought you were enjoying it as well and I just got carried away_____ I'm so sorry."

We sat there in silence for quite some time. I was determined that it wouldn't be me who re-opened the conversation, and eventually Janice looked up at me and tried to offer an explanation.

"Tim," she started at last in a meek voice. " It was perhaps this dress. I've never felt so sexy before, and when I was dancing, I felt ___ No, I knew ___ that every man round that square wanted me. I wanted to rip my dress off and dance naked for them."

She smiled at me, and I couldn't help removing the scowl from my face at the thought of her doing just that. I wasn't at all sure how I would have reacted if she really had.

"When I finally danced with Serge for the second time...."

"Third time Janice," I corrected her.

"OK, maybe third time," she continued. "I was just so turned on that I thought I'd see how far I could tease you. I asked you to get me a drink deliberately, so I could disappear over the other side of the square so that you'd panic when I wasn't where you left me. Honestly Tim, I did it for you, to get you turned on."

"Just for me Janice, you must think I'm bloody simple or something."

"OK, OK," she conceded immediately. "Not just for you, but me as well, or both of us really. I was just teasing you and taking the game on to another level."

Janice started to sob quietly to herself. "I never imagined you'd get so upset ___ I didn't think you'd mind so much."

"Janice, you weren't just the other side of the square. You were down a dark lane and it took me twenty minutes to find you."

"Oh God, was it really twenty minutes ____ Sorry," was all she could manage.

"And when I did find you, that damn Froggy was on the point of fucking you."

"That's not true Tim," Janice cried aloud in panic. "You know that's not true. He was just holding me. No more than he had when we'd been dancing."

"You've already admitted he let you kiss you," I accused her, and she dropped her head in shame, mumbling something about only a couple of times that I didn't catch properly, and chose not to pursue.

"So why did you let him get your tits out then," I nearly screamed at my wife.

"He didn't. I never let him do that," she sobbed back.

"So how come your dress was undone then. We drove right back to here, and you never even noticed your tits were half out till I reminded you."

"Oh Tim I'm sorry," she sobbed much louder, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I didn't mean it really ___ it just all got out of hand ____ I just got carried away. I love you so much, please, please forgive me."

Well I wasn't happy, far from it. But as we sat there staring at one another it occurred to me that this was partly my fault. I'd let her flirt with other men, encouraged her even, and I knew she'd kissed a few of them, and had an idea that more than one may have fondled her breasts. She'd never mentioned it to me, but then I'd never complained or told her that I knew.

Who was worse, her or me? Perhaps it was her, but maybe I wasn't far behind.

I was more upset because I couldn't find her, and that she was doing something behind my back. That's what I hadn't liked, but it was hardly going to ruin our marriage, and split us up was it?

I decided to drop the matter, though I later told her that her flirting had to tone down or even stop. She wasn't very happy about that, but accepted it without too much argument, promising never to do it again unless I asked her to, and certainly never behind my back.

"I'll let you have one last fantasy," I eventually told her as we sat in the bedroom. "How about taking off your dress and dancing for me and all the other guys in the room," indicating with a flourish of my arm the completely empty room behind us.

Janice smiled, and then grinned, then slowly slid the flimsy dress off and let it drop down to a pile at her feet. Her panties soon followed, and she stepped out of them, standing there quite naked except for her high heels.

She then began to sway gently, her beautiful slender body undulating to some imaginary tune, her firm breasts swaying provocatively in front of my eyes. Before long she was twisting and thrusting her body in a series of dance moves that could have been for all the world like she was making love.

I guess she was really. It was a prelude to making love to me, and before long she came closer and closer, pushing my hands away as I reached out for her, and making me wait till she pushed her sweet breasts right into my face, and sat down straddling me, her legs split wide open drawing my hand in to explore between her thighs.

Janice gasped out loud as my finger found the wetness of her hot slit, and gasped even louder as I slid one, then a second finger right in.

I opened my thighs a little, forcing her legs even wider, and started to pump my fingers, then my thumb faster and faster up inside of her, increasing the pace the more excited she got.

Janice cried out, a long uncontrolled groan, as she reached her first orgasm, verbally encouraging me to continue till she soon had another.

Then it was my turn.

She took my hand and led me over to the bed, undressing me slowly till I had nothing left on. Normally we engaged in foreplay, quite a lot as a rule. But not that night as she was too far gone.

She just fucked me and fucked me. Raw sex to begin with, but as our energy ran out it turned to loving.

We ended up cuddling together our limbs hopelessly entwined, and like that we fell asleep, waking the following morning in one another's arms.

I loved my wife, and she loved me. Fortunately a little error of judgment wasn't going to spoil that.

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Another happy year rolled by, my business thrived, and I got a secret pleasure from always adding on a few extra per-cent to our quotes for Harding Construction, Tod's company, compared to others.

A bit petty really, and though the years had dulled my dislike of him, I'd heard other stories about him which prevented me completely forgiving him, and though he no longer represented any threat to me, it was obvious he hadn't changed that much.

Then the really big local contract came along

Strangely it involved my old tennis club, the one where I had played with my old girl friend Fiona. The long lease on the ground and the football pitches next door had run out, and a big London based developer had bought the land for a housing development.

It would be the biggest contract in our area for some time, and Harding's were the only local contractor big enough to consider bidding for the work.

I found myself working quite closely with Tod for the first time, and rediscovered that when it suited him, he could be really quite pleasant. The advantage we had over the bigger outside contractors was that we were there on the ground, and if we pooled our effort then we had a good chance of winning the job. It also meant that I would be able to invest in a new Scandinavian machine, that churned out top quality staircases by the dozen, and we would be the only company in the UK who had one.

I have to admit it was an exciting few months working with Hardings and the Scandinavians, to formulate our final quote, and while we were working on it Tod asked me if I would object to him and his family joining our tennis club. He would need a sponsor to get in, his old club was about to close, and it seemed about time to bury the hatchet.

Secretly I dare say, that I looked forward to beating him at singles, which by then I knew I could, and if he was in our club, then he could hardly keep avoiding that encounter.

I readily agreed, they joined, and Janice and I sometimes ended up playing against him and Sheila, who we normally beat, or against him and his daughter, which got progressively more difficult as she got older.

I doubt that I could ever quite call him a good friend, but we had mutual friends and would sometimes end up drinking together, and even at parties with one another.

He studiously avoided ever mentioning Fiona, and indeed the hatchet had been buried.

Hardings won the contract, partly because the Scandinavians suggested one or two modifications to the staircases, making them even easier and cheaper to build. Tod's company adopted the specification in their quote, and the job was in the bag.

We celebrated in style that day, and in fact that week. But then it was down to hard work, whilst we installed the new machinery as soon as Hardings confirmed their order to us, and they started on the pre-contract work.

Before long the contract was flying along, and our manufacture and installation contract for the windows and staircases seemed to be going a treat.

Life was great, and the future looked so promising. I guess it always does before a fall.

Janice had stuck to her word that she would not flirt with any other men, though she had certainly asked me a few times how I felt about it. Our sex life was OK, but to be honest only OK. It had fallen off over the previous half year, which I put down to the hard work I had been putting in, though I suspected it might have been due a little to Janice being a bit uptight about having to behave herself all the time. Maybe our private life did need a bit of spice adding to it, and as the weeks went by, she suggested we went dancing or on holiday more and more frequently.

I decided it was about time to give in to her, as I had to admit I missed that mysterious stomach churning pleasure as well.

I thought about mentioning my feelings, but didn't know how to approach the subject. It began to look as if I was going to have to wait a while.

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I was unsure about accepting the invite to Tod's party when it came. He was on top of the world as his contract was going well and I guessed he wanted to show off at a big local hotel.