Walk the Dog, Dump the WIfe

"Yes Chris, very clear. How do you know Elizabeth Morgan? I don't know how you know all this, but that's what happened. We were both shocked at our instinctive reactions, and stumbled over each other with apologies. We were practically at the office, and like I said, Archie had the cabbie pull over so we could regain our deportment before we went into the building."

There was a long pause, I suppose where she was deciding if there was anything she dare not tell me.

"The week before last, we went to a really great West Indian French restaurant, really just a hole in the wall restaurant...."

"So now you are at the point where you are voluntarily marking yourself with his scent and wearing clothes he approves of, that give him easy access to your tits and pussy. Is this the week with the under garments, or did that come earlier and you forgot to mention it?"

I hit another nerve. She burst out crying and ran out of the room, sobbing as she went. I sipped some wine, and started to read the paper. She came out of the john about ten minutes later, red eyed, with a snivel or two.

"I am so sorry. You knew everything all along! Why didn't you say something and stop me? You never let on!"

"Later, go on, the West Indian jerked chicken, neon lights, cheap tables and chairs, really spicy great tasting food!"

"Yes, well I don't know what brought it up, but Archie had been talking earlier about women willingly wearing uncomfortable underwear, like girdles in the old days, and now a days bras and thongs, and such, what cheap uncomfortable things they were. That most women didn't know what really good underwear was."

Well, and I thought it would be the old line 'Take off your underpants in the restaurant' line. Archie's an original alright! Something new under the sun.

"He reached into his brief case, and handed me a very elegant box, saying

"Here, this is for you. Try them out and let me know which is more comfortable, these, or what you have on now."

Of course I started to open it.

"Don't open it here! This is too shabby a place for these." As he tapped his finger on the box.

Since I am trying to be honest, we necked like teenagers in the cab back to the office."

I knew I had a glum look on my face.

"Chris, this is really hard for me to kiss and tell..."

"It's not so easy to hear it, either, but we need the catharsis to heal. Go on."

"He slipped a couple of buttons on my blouse, and shoved my bra up, and fondled my boob, and pinched my nipple. That felt good, but my bra rucked up like that hurt. I admit, I rubbed his penis through his pants, I thought it felt quite fat. He unzipped, but I ignored that. And yes, I lay back and let him touch my pussy. He was rough, and it hurt, him trying to stick a finger in. I stopped him, telling him not here, and straightened myself up. He didn't argue, but asked me to just cuddle, so I did."

"While he continued to fondle your tits. While you just cuddled" She nodded, looking at the floor.

"You arrived back at the office, or here? By the way tell me about the panties. What was so special? And the price?"

"He's never been here. Honest. He dropped me off at the office, and the underpants. I've never seen anything like them. They don't look the least bit erotic...nothing like that. At first glance dowdy, even. But pure, tightly woven silk, carefully hand stitched. He forgot to check the inside. The price was still on them. $75 each, and there were three pair in the box, one red, one black, and one white. They were sort of like very short legged boxer shorts, beautifully made and in the crotch, there was a silk pocket, and you could slide a cotton handkerchief like thing into the pocket, if you needed them to be...more absorbent. I tried a pair on at the office, and they were heavenly. Like I was naked underneath, only rubbing like silk against me. Of course they were silk! I couldn't stand it, I was so hot, I came home and attacked you that night. Emmm!"

"I don't remember seeing them."

"Be serious, I couldn't let you see them. I changed in the office, and kept them in the office."

"The price wasn't left in the box by accident you fool. You are impressed people with money to burn, and it's important for the seduction that you be impressed. Go on!"

"To continue... So last week, we went to lunch at a French restaurant over on Second and Olive. I know your going to ask, yes, I chose the white ones.''

"I doubt that you chose them. You sure Arch didn't express a preference for the white ones?"

"Well, maybe, now that you mention it, he did. Anyway, it didn't matter."

Right, I thought, he played her like the master he was, always asking for more, always something that would be easy to say yes to, to get her in the habit of agreeing, expecting to do things to please him.

"This is when he asked you to show him that you were wearing his gift, there in the restaurant?"

She went orbital. "Jeasus H Christ, Chris, did you put a hidden mike in my purse. I made sure nobody saw that, and he never mentioned or emailed, or spoke about it. Answer me. God damn it! How did you know?"

"There's no microphone. Go look in your various purses! See if there's a bug. Seeing is believing, as we mentioned earlier. I have a very active male mind, and I am very good at deductive logic, that's all. You barely understood what he said to you, I understand what he was doing. "

"All right, whatever. We were sitting side by side in the booth, me on the inside. He asked to see his gift, so I looked around, and lifted my dress only high enough for him to see my underpants.

"See, you interpreted the word 'his gift' to be the underpants he gave you. Equally his words referred to your cunt, which was going to be his gift from you! Two sides to everything. Your conscious mind understood one side, but subconsciously you weren't innocent. You understood where things were going."

"I don't think so. Oh shit! Maybe you're right! Anyway, we had a lovely prix-fixe lunch. The waiter spoke French, as does Archie, by the way, and he ordered for me. It was one of the best meals I've ever had! Mostly we talked about the Democratic party, and what was really going to happen this fall."

"And the likelihood that you would be working for the Art museum by then."

"We did talk about that, it looks like a sure thing, it really does."

"Even though you haven't been interviewed for the job. And you had sex in the booth, after all that peeking at pussy, eating sophisticated food, and... talking?"

"I am ashamed of myself. But, it wasn't sex. More like heavy petting. He pushed my skirt up, took a dab of olive oil, and slipped his hand under my panties, and he rubbed my pussy. I whispered to stop it, but he told me to shut up, I was drawing attention to myself. I think the waiter might have known, because I had an orgasm, just as he set the plates down. I could see Archie had his penis out...it looked funny lying on a white napkin like a sausage. I dabbed some olive oil on my left hand, and jacked him off with one hand, while I ate with the other. Mostly he shot into the napkin, but a little got on my hand. He made me lick my hand clean, and watched me do it. Sick-o, eh?"

"No, not at all. Very erotic, sex in public, but hidden. A shared secret adventure. Further practice for you to submit to him. I bet he was ready again by the time you got in the cab. You sucked his cock?"

"I had to, as you apparently already know. You probably also know how big his penis was, too, and weather he was cut or not."

"Good points. I'm just using the brains god gave me. But this is your story, so since you brought it up, give me the blow by blow and tell me about his equipment."

"Oh god, do I have to. All right. We got in the cab, and he pulled his coc...penis out, right there in broad daylight. I whispered 'Stop that! People will see it!" He pulled me close to him, and whispered with his lips brushing my ear, sending shivers down my body "No they won't my randy pussy, because your hair will screen it from sight." And he unbuttoned my blouse to my bra, and pushed my head into his lap! I couldn't fight, for god sake, the cabby was right there.

Actually his penis was ordinary, circumcised if you must know. It smelled stale, and a little like pee. But whatever, I had no choice, so I sucked his penis, like you said. He kept pinching my nipples and boobs through my bra, muttering these dirty words that made me feel cheap, telling me what to do. I have to admit I was excited too. He kept me at it for a really long time, my jaw was getting sore, but he didn't have much left in him when he did come."

"So you knelt down, symbolically of course, as you were sitting on the seat of the cab, before him, in full submission, and worshiped his cock, swallowed a bit of cum, and all you got in return was a sore tit from his not so gentle squeezing while you prostituted yourself for him.

By the way, when was he going to put in a good word for you at the Art Museum, and did he mention who his contact was?"

She visibly relaxed at what she saw as an easy question

"Actually he did. Just after we ordered. Next week, Wednesday he was having lunch with Tom Hoovering. He's the person to see."

"So you would have to be 'nice' to him today? And as a correction, you were Hoovering Archie; the guy at the museum is Tomas Hoving. It irritates him no end to be called Tom, and Tomas would never go to lunch with an idiot like Archie. I have lunch with Tomas and Howard Goldman in a local pub three or four times a year. I offered to introduce you, if you recall, but you wouldn't have it. Well we all value stuff we pay for more than what we can have for free.

By the way, you didn't mention his gift of the nail polish. When did he give it to you?"

"It arrived at the office last week."

"And the note that came with it?"

"Chris, how could you know about the note?"

"Karen! The note!"

"Well he knew I didn't wear nail polish, but he asked as a favor for me to wear it today. I just painted it on last night."

"Just on your toes, so you could wear shoes and hide it from me?"

A sheepish nod from Wifey.

"Well, good! Another visible sign of your willingness to wear his mark and surrender to him completely. What did he tell you were going to do this afternoon?"

"Well, just that he had some antiques that had been in his family for two hundred and fifty years, and in a beautifully restored house. The Museum borrowed several of the better pieces of furniture for the Rococo Chippendale special exhibit a few years ago. They have offered him over a million dollars for the desk alone. Well, of course I was interested. I mean how often do you get a chance to see something like that?"

"And what did you think you would have to do to please Archie? And get the good word in with Hoving?"

"Well, that's just it. I was calling a halt to it all. Him forcing me to suck him was just...the end. I mean I'm married, after all! Nothing more was going to happen. I swear! I was/am done with him just as soon as lunch was over!"

"So sweet innocent you. You left the house this morning planning to end the affair before it exceeded Bill Clinton's definition of sex. Yet you told the office you would be gone for the rest of the day. To prepare to give Archie the bad news that it was all over between the two of you...you went to work prepared exactly as Archie asked you to, with shining fuck-me-red nails on your toes, with matching red silk underpants on you cunt, with his perfume on your tits! Face it! You were planning to spend the afternoon alone with him in his house. You already had exchanged French kisses, let him play with your tits, finger fuck and masturbate you. You gave him a hand job, a blow job, and bought some condoms to use at his house. And now you think me dumb enough to believe you weren't planning to fuck him?"

"I didn't have any condoms!"

"Oh yes you did. That's why you about shit yourself when the gay guys said he gave you a cell phone and it was in your purse. If I had looked in your purse I'd have see this." I pulled the discarded cell phone out of my pocket,

"And these."

I reached back into my pocket, and tossed an unopened three pack of condoms:

"Lubricated, ribbed, with a cum cup in the tip. Just like a good little slut, be prepared."

"Chris, how...,where..."

"From the trash can on the corner of 6^th and Sycamore, where you dumped them when you got out of the cab, that's where they're from. They were tucked together inside a folded newspaper.

Look you dumb cunt, the son of a bitch was setting you up and you eagerly allowed the old fart to seduce you.

Oh yes you'd probably see the house. But in his study, in front of hidden video cameras, you would have had a pork infusion from that rotter, the least of the blue bloods. Then, if you tried to break off with him, he would have had pictures that would ruin you and your marriage. In a month or two, when he had fucked your ass and made you suck his shit streaked cock, he could do any damn thing he wanted with you.

Oh, I can't believe that. He was really nice!"

"Karen, he's played you like a violin. From the start, he got your sympathy, flattered you, promised you entry to what you wanted. You have your nose pressed firmly against the windows of the houses of the upper class and he knows it. He worked diligently getting you to yield more and more control to him.

The worse thing is you decided that you wanted what you thought he could deliver, and were willing to fuck him and dump me to get it. You knew very early on where this was going, didn't you?"

"No, I really didn't, it was so gradual. Each thing was a little more than before...but"

"But nothing! I was a drag on your ambitions, holding you back from 'the right people'...his people run things, you think. Wear his scent to connect your tits to his face. Let him cover your cunt with his underpants. Wear them for him, feel how the other half lives. Kisses forced, but impulsive, accidental. Next time given as a right. The outrage of public masturbation in a restaurant, for god's sake. Each previous liberty now his due. Sucking him off, the first of the three holes you were going to give him. Well, he didn't get you to his house to fuck you today, but that's not his fault, is it. You were willing and eager until you panicked when you saw me."

"No it wasn't like that; it was...like I was under a spell. I love you Chris."

"You think so? But you want to fuck Archie. You think living with me will prevent you from reaching you goals. I'm too rough, too working class. Your starter husband. You want to be in society. That was Archie's hook. You swallowed it and his cum. Hiding it from me, because you knew if I found out, it would end our marriage and it wasn't convenient for you to make the break...not just yet."

"But I don't love Archie. I love you!"

"You were dumb enough to think that Archie would divorce his wife, and enjoy having you as trophy wife! You would inherit a pot of money when he kicked off. You never checked! He's got less than we have! He owns no property. None. He has a spendthrift trust. The 250 year old furniture is bullshit. It's his wife's! His wife of 30 years had all of the money and prestige. He's the joke of Philadelphia society, tolerated only because his wife gives out tons of money! The guy is a whore master, willing to fuck anything that comes his way. The only guy in town with a part ownership in a pornographic website that lost money.

Well guess what. Remember what I said about the wealthy fucking the wrong sort of people? You're not society, so his wife really doesn't care if he fucks you. You are an unsuitable person. They both know he's not going to marry you. You're just the right sort for him to screw. Like his wife screwing her personnel trainer. Fun for her, no consequences, he'll quit when she wants him to. You picked the wrong one this time, but take heart, learn from this and you may hit gold next time."

I have to tell you that like an idiot, I did forgive her indiscretion, but I certainly didn't forget it. Bill Hoving interviewed her, and she did get the job at the art museum. After Christmas, we talked about starting having a family, but before it could happen, Bill mentioned to me (as a friend who had told him the truth of what happened between Karen and Archibald) that Karen was perhaps enjoying a "dalliance" with a board member, James Biddle. He swore me not to give him as the source of the rumor. Biddle is distantly related to old money, but he grew up rough. His money actually comes from demolition and salvage yards. James was recently divorced, and genuine wealthy. I didn't fool around this time. I paid an investigator to look into it, and got a batch of pictures, them kissing, him with his knee pressed between her legs and with his hand on her ass, them walking with their arms around each other. I mentioned the lack of explicit pictures!

"Chris! Unless they're truly nuts, fucking or sucking in public view or something like that, you're talking about huge costs. $20-50,000. First you have to figure where and when they are going to do it, then you have to get the cameras in place, and then get the pictures out, and then get the cameras back. You can't believe what is costs, paying someone reliable to break into houses, install cameras and such. Probably be cheaper to hire someone to pop 'em! Gimme a break, look at them kissing with his hands on her ass. They're fucking each other!"

So I handed her divorce papers. The pictures were invaluable. She thought she was close to reeling him in, and the scandal would end her hopes. In exchange for her walking out with nothing but the clothing in her closet, I agreed to a quiet divorce and to never say a bad word about her, Archie, or Biddle. What little regret we both had, was for the departure of the dreams we once shared. I also agreed she could live with me for a maximum of six months, so the divorce would not upset her apple cart. Biddle proposed, and she was gone in three months

You might ask why I didn't kick her ass out the door, and piss on her head when she was lying in the street. The answer is that I try very hard not to hang onto anger. It corrodes the soul, and can dominate your life. When it was clear that we had no life together, I was happy to get her out of my life and move on. It would do me no conceivable good to carry on a vendetta. Frankly nobody in town cared one way or the other, but why introduce needless discord into your life? There are things I will fight for, but a wayward wife is not one of them. Plus giving her half of our assets would have cost me about $100,000!