A Load in Every Hole Ch. 03

"If I were a blank slate, what would you do?" I asked Mellie.

"When you wear red fingers and lipsticks, it carries the whole thing. The key is not to clash, so no greens, blues, yellows. Adding green to red makes you look like a Christmas tree and adding more red makes you look like a fire truck.

You have perfect skin, so you don't want to just dump on it and cover it up. Apply a very light toned base, thin the eyebrows, which are a bit heavy and a bit... connected, bronze up your eye shadow, add heavier lashes and do a tip on the lids to give you that Asian look and bang! You'll look outstanding!

I was caught up in her enthusiasm. "You only live once Mellie," I answered, let's go! and Roxy laughed. Two hours later Roxy twirled me around in the chair so I could see myself in the big background mirror.

Holy cow! I'm a goddess! I thought. My hair was much shorter, perhaps four inches or more gone, and no it longer reached the shoulder. It was arranged in what Roxy called "tousled waves." Roxy had worked some kind of highlighting that managed to make the waves look like they were crested. My face was... just, unnaturally pretty. I mean, movie star pretty.

"Oh my God! I've never looked like this!" I said, stunned.

"Wrong! You've always looked like this!" Roxy answered, "you just never let yourself look like this. You'd better be careful, though, Mark's gonna get awfully jealous when all the guy's look at you all the time." Mark had picked me up from the parlor several times, and both Roxy and Millie had gingerly poked fun at how they'd like to take him for a "test spin."

"I'll never be able to re-create this!" I fretted.

"Everyone thinks that at first, but it's easy," Roxy said. "I'll write down the instructions on the hair, step-by-step, and Millie has everything you need to re-create the look in a bag set. Once you do it the first time, you'll never worry about it again. Easy-peasy." I didn't believe her, but I also didn't care. When I walk off that plane, I'm going to look like a goddess!

It only cost me $400 and two and a half hours to look like a million bucks. I was behind schedule, but since Roxy's shop was in the mall, that didn't present a problem. But with the do-over and first-class upgrade, I was rapidly becoming one expensive proposition. Tough sucks, I thought, I'm about to become more so.

I walked out of Roxy's shop directly into the flow of foot traffic and the effect of the new style was dramatic. Men--old men, young men, boys--it didn't matter, they all stopped in their tracks to one degree or another and just... stared. Some women looked on in jealousy, but for the most part they did so with simple appraisal.

There were eighteen women's wear places in the mall, but only two I wanted to visit, Sheen, an upscale store specializing in sexy women's wear, and L'nique, an upper-end lingerie store. I hit Sheen first.

"Mona Lisa," I heard just a few minutes after I entered the store. The attendant was a "grizzled veteran," easily 70 and maybe older.

"One in a thousand, really! I don't get a chance to dress many like you dear," she said kindly. I hope you're in a mood to spend a little. Because if you are, we can get you out of those drab things and you could be just soooo spectacular!"

I knew it was a sales pitch, but her sincerity made it work.

"What would you like to drink?" she asked. I wasn't expecting that.

"We have everything on the lighter side, of course, but a bit of champagne as well if you'd like.

"I would like," I said, surprising myself. It was still late morning, and I never drank before five. But I was about to venture into the land of the flamboyant and see Miguel again, so a little liquid reinforcement was in order.

"Lovely! Bella... a flute of champagne please?" she called out to her young assistant, and within seconds it filled my hand.

"My name is Ruth Wilson" she crooned and held out her hand. I shook it, praying that my engagement ring didn't disappear on the return trip. My worries were unfounded.

"Let's start at the beginning, the occasion? The objective? It all makes a difference. What are you looking to do? Update the wardrobe? Get a man? Say goodbye to a man? Keep a man? Look good in a business meeting? The objective makes all the difference" she finished.

I decided on bluntness: "I'm flying to Las Vegas in three hours to rescue my husband from his handsy associate, before that, I have a lunch date with a man I met last night because I was well and truly hacked off at my husband."

"Oh dear! I see!" Ruth fretted, "you do have a lot going on. Well, well, well. I think a lean toward the dramatic is in order then, don't you dear?" Ruth asked.

"Yes!" I responded, "most definitely."

We prowled the large store for some time and soon had a handful of dresses to try on. I quickly entered the changing rooms, shed my jeans and t-shirt, and tried on several before finding the first I really liked, a form-fitting Forrest green knit mid-length dress that hugged me like a glove to the mid-thigh.

"It looks lovely," Ruth said. "The shoulder width is just right, and it hugs your figure beautifully, but Mary... it isn't meant to be worn with a bra."

I blanched. Looking at the back of the dress in the mirror I saw the same bra strap she was seeing. "Oh, of course!" I said, nonplussed. I wasn't sure I was committed to being quite this bold.

"Try it," Ruth urged. "Please, for me. It will just be us two. Of a thousand women, only four or five can wear that dress the way you can. Please, humor an old lady!"

I went into the changing room and removed my full coverage bra. Removing it made a dramatic effect on both the dress, and on me. The thin cashmere mix scratched achingly across my nipples as I dropped the dress back down over my head, and when I looked in the mirror, they were small rocks plainly outlined by the little green sheaf. It stretched over my breasts so tautly that absolutely nothing about their shape or confirmation was left to the imagination.

Big gold buttons ran down the front and an overlarge leather belt dyed the same color as the dress cinched it tightly to my midriff, making my curves even more pronounced. I unbuttoned two more buttons than proper and tested the look. The stretchy fabric fell to the side, revealing my upturned breasts nearly to the nipple. "Here goes nothing!" I told myself and walked out.

"Oh my!" Ruth volunteered. "You will definitely make waves in that dress! You look spectacular!"

She was right, I thought looking in the mirror. If I came walking down the main hallway at Reid airport in this, Mark would go absolutely bonkers. "I'll take it," I said.

We tried on most of the outfits we'd gathered before I narrowed the field and made my selections. I added a businesslike but ultra-sexy blue/charcoal skirt and jacket combination with an incredibly short skirt. It came with a clingy white tube top that left my midriff exposed and was so tight and thin it revealed both the shape and color of my areole and gave a clear outline of my nipples. I then closed by buying two colorful casual ruffled summer dresses cut so deep in the front that they showed half my breasts and so short in the skirt that if I bent over, I would show the family goods, and a full-length summer dress that was just too darn pretty to be left behind.

The grand total was staggering, and worth every penny. As I left, I saw Ruth out of the corner of my eye. She flashed the store receipt for my purchase to her manager with pride, and the manager's eyebrows lifted in surprise. I didn't care. I was a woman on a mission and the clothing afterburners were kicking in. I wore the dark green dress out of the store.

If I had been stared at before, I was positively ogled now, and not just in the face. One man tripped, and another was pulled out of my path by his wife. This accomplished nothing other than to make his head swivel in a near 180 degree turn.

L'nique was something else! It looked like what I imagined a bordello would look like--dark, heavy reds and purples, muted lighting, and dark-colored tufted seats and throws designed to allow a man to relax in leisure while his woman paraded in front of him in her skivvies.

This time a young, somewhat pushy thirty-something encouraged me to take chances and oohed and aahed as I very sheepishly modeled bra and thong combinations, silk slips, teddy-bear nighties, and a transparent body-sock styled covering in front of her. I bought all the bra and thong combinations I liked in several colors, plus four nighttime pieces and once again refused to look at the checkout tab too closely.

I left L'nique wearing some of what I had purchased-- a black thong and garter belt ensemble, silk stockings and a pair of black pumps with four-inch spikes they had on "sale." It was 12:20 and I had to rush to make it to Turley's on time.

Miguel gushed when he saw me. "Oh my! I know you did this for your husband, but I pretend you did it for me!" Miguel gushed and hugged me warmly.

"Thank you!" I replied, charmed.

"Please!" Miguel said, holding both of his hands up and motioning for me to do a 360. I did, feeling like a silly little schoolgirl on inspection.

He kept repeating "Madre de Dios! Eres una vision!" over and over as I circled. The stares and stumbles in the mall and now Miguel's effusive praise all made my head spin a little. No harm in pumping the ego a bit when you've been challenged. I thought.

Lunch was lovely and the conversation lively and flirtatious. We had a fine bottle of wine, and by the end I was buzzing from both the wine and Miguel's lavish attention. I talked freely, disclosing to Miguel that Mark had indeed been set upon by his associate Lisa, that I was very anxious about it and much more jealous than I thought possible. I even disclosed that I had fully confessed everything that happened between us the night before to Mark, but I left off Mark's reaction and mine.

"You have every right to be concerned about this Lisa," he responded solicitously. The irony of Miguel discussing Mark's dalliance at a lunch in which we were having our own seemed to escape him.

Miguel finally pushed the right button. "What did you say to your husband of us?" he asked coyly. "You cannot simply have said 'I met a man? No?"

"I told him you were extraordinarily handsome," I responded coquettishly.

"This is all?" Miguel asked.

"No, not entirely," I said guardedly.

Miguel merely waited me out, smiling his silly smile. "...and, I told him that that I fantasized about going to your hotel room and seeing you."

Miguel grew silent and he bit his lower lip. When he released it, it trembled just a little.

"Ahhh Madre de Dios! Ahora estoy fuera de la cabeza!" he said, tapping his scalp.

"You cannot leave me this way!" Miguel begged, taking my hand in his. I jumped at the contact, even though he had touched my shoulder and even my face during lunch. This was the first time anyone other than Mark had held my hand romantically in over two decades.

"To know that a woman so exquisite thinks of being with you, even dreams of being with you, but that it cannot happen, es tortura! Please, leave me something to remember you with on my long trip home!" he begged.

"That's sweet Miguel," I answered, but I must be on my plane in a little over two hours, and the airport is thirty minutes away and I have no idea how long TSA will take."

"Just a few minutes more, please," Miguel pleaded softly. "We shall depend on fate, make it a game, yes? We shall call it hide-away. Isn't that what you Americans call it, a hide-away?"

"It depends," I said warily, "on the game."

"You and I will go to my car, and we will search for a hideaway and there I will steal a kiss from you. If I cannot find it in less than five minutes, then it is the fates telling us that I should not have my kiss, and to the airport with you!" he finished. "But, if I find it, I get my kiss, yes?"

"This is fair, no?" he begged.

"Five minutes, it will take no more," he continued, "and just one kiss, please! Surely you have time for the shortest of games?" he added teasingly. "After all, when do we have the chance to test the fates?"

He looked so much like a big shaggy puppy. "Okay!" I relented, adding, "but I cannot miss this flight." Pulling away from the table it hit me: you just agreed to let him kiss you. What are you thinking?

We walked hurriedly from Turley's to the parking garage where he'd parked the big sedan loaned to him by the target company. Miguel quickly put the big sedan in gear and, to my surprise, drove straight up the parking garage until he reached the next to top level.

"Here, we find our hideaway," he said whipping the big cruiser into a darkened parking slot between two tall fleet vehicles and smiling victoriously.

"You cheated!" I laughed. "You knew this was here all along!"

"I confess, I may have cheated, just a little. These belong to the company I am visiting. All go out in the morning, or should, and these are left behind in reserve. But in my defense, I was a desperate man. I took measures into my own hands, no?" he replied gaily.

"And you think a parking space on the seventh floor of a public parking garage is a hideaway, Miguel?" I burst out laughing.

"For a kiss, perhaps just for a kiss, yes?" he teased, then reached for my hands and leaned in.

I wasn't prepared for what happened next. Miguel was a different lover, a man whose mindset and approach totally unlike Mark's.

"You Americans," he said lifting my left hand to his mouth.

"For you, everything must be quick, hard, rough, bang, bang, bang. But that is not the way of love," he whispered, bringing my fingers in contact with his lips and brushing them lightly.

"Love is slow, like the water boiling, it does not happen all at once!" His lips sent ripples all the way through me, creating such a profound stirring in the loins that I could not pull away from him. I felt my hips arch up involuntarily, thrusting my privates forward salaciously, and prayed that Miguel didn't see my intemperate reaction and know how little control I was exercising.

Miguel then took my index finger into his mouth and sucked it lightly, twirling the end of his tongue around the last digit. The sensations shot up my arm and a dozen different parts of my body and split my world apart. I moaned and it sounded so loud in the cab of the car that I scared myself.

"Miguel! Please stop that Miguel," I pled as the heat between my legs threatened to sabotage what little control I had left.

"Tan hermosa! Tan hermosa!" he kept repeating as he broke from my hand then returned to it, staring me in the eyes all the while. I knew what my eyes must be communicating in reply--raw lust.

Thank God we only have a few minutes I thought, or this guy would own me lock, stock and barrel. Miguel then separated two of my fingers and "went down" on them, all the way to the hand and alternately sucked and tongued them vigorously. I pitched up in the seat, writhing wantonly in front of him, my body openly admitting what my mind and mouth could not--that I wanted him, all of him. My right breast nearly fell out of the little dress as I heaved about.

Miguel saw his opportunity and lowered his mouth to my nipple, deftly moving the fabric of the dark green dress away and licking it softly. The move stunned me in its boldness, and I began to shake, but again could not muster the will power to pull away.

My hand flew to the dashboard to steady myself. "Oh my!" I uttered, "oohhh, ohhh myyy!"

Miguel could sense that I was on the edge of surrender, so he became even more aggressive, nibbling my breast and areole more harshly and stroking the outside of my leg with his left hand all the way to my butt cheek.

"Oh, Miguel!" I complained. "This has to stop! I'm married Miguel. I... I can't do this! You said just a kiss! Something to remember me by on your way home! That was all!"

"This is a kiss, yes?" he said smiling and pulling away from my breast for a moment before returning his attention to it. Electricity poured back into my pussy as if a light switch had turned on.

"Oh Miguel, please..." I stuttered, ashamedly realizing at the last moment that I had left the word "stop" off the end of the sentence. Miguel read my failure to include the word "stop" as permission and pressed on, his lips traveling up from my nipple to my neck, jaw, and then to my lips.

"Holy mother of God, pray for us now and at the time of our death!" I recited silently just as his tongue penetrated my lips and began feverishly dancing along the inside of my mouth.

"MMMMMM, MMMMMM!" I moaned pitifully under his influence. I have to break out of this! I thought as his hand left my bottom and crept between my legs and sought out my pussy. Oh my God! He's fingering me! Oh God! That feels soooo good. If I don't cut this off right now, I won't be able to stop!

But he did not stop, and I did not pull away. Instead his fingers lingered just inside the elastic band of the newly acquired little black thong, strumming slowly and gently along my outer lips. I gasped at his boldness and began shivering. I gripped his wrist in a last feeble effort to have him stop, but his fingers moved forward anyway, gently prying away every ounce of my resistance.

Then he was in me, two fingers, probing, spreading, circling, teasing, and I was breathing like a miler at the finish line. All the while his lips were on my ear, gently biting it and taking the lobe in his mouth to suckle. The cab was filled with my incessant groans, and I felt so transported by the sensations that it felt as though someone else were doing the groaning.

Miguel pulled away, bringing his hand up from my crotch to softly touch my face and draw his digits, wet with my juice, over my lips. I could smell my strong, musky odor on them. Oddly, this felt far more erotic than if he had kept them below. His insistence on going slow, of prolonging the build-up was so unlike Mark that the very oddity of it made me so much hotter and hungrier.

"Ohhhh! Ohhhhh!!!" I heard myself moan. I extended my tongue, gently licking his fingers before finally sucking two of them into my mouth.

This was the very first thing I had done to Miguel on my own. Everything before was "playing defense" - poor defense, but defense. A strong spasm of guilt pervaded me as I tongued Miguel's fingers but was promptly swept away by Mark's words: Anything short of fucking him. Well, letting a man suck your tits and push his fingers into your slit was short. Not by very much, but short.

The clock read 1;43. I pulled his fingers from my mouth. "I have to go now Miguel, it's getting late," I pled. "You have plenty to remember me by on your trip back," I plead lightly.

"If we must, I will take you to the airport to save you time!" Miguel answered. "I have no meetings until 4;30, I can do it."

"I shouldn't!" I responded, "I really shouldn't be here!" I said, looking around anxiously to see if any unexpected traffic had made its way to the top of the parking garage. This was some sort of business fleet, and I was sure that they didn't just leave their assets in place all day. A driver could come along at any time.

Miguel did not respond verbally, rather, he unzipped his pants. His stiff cock poked out from the khakis needfully, and he put my hand forcefully atop of it, wrapping my fingers around the base. I tried to pull away, but he held my hand there.

Oh my God. Oh my God. I have my hand on another man's cock. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I have my hand on another guy's dick.