A Scandalous Night Out

Sandy glanced at her watch impatiently. It was going on eight, and it was high time for the first-Friday-of-the-month Lodge meeting to end. Sandy and her husband, Harry, had arrived a tad after five, enjoyed drinks with some friends and consumed the Lodge's magnificent monthly steak dinner.

Then the men went into an adjacent room at seven for their meeting and Lodge rituals; that was men only, of course. The wives and girlfriends enjoyed after-dinner cocktails and gossiped. A few played cards, and there were five slot machines in a backroom that attracted a crowd of women intent on trying their luck. The slot machines were illegal, of course, but the Lodge had connections. With everyone's hearty approval, the machines subsidized the cost of the Lodge's lavish monthly steak dinners and New Year's Eve bash.

Precisely at eight, the meeting room doors swung open, and a boisterous crowd of men spilled out to join the ladies. Harry and John ambled out with their arms slung around each other's shoulders. John had been the star quarterback of their "almost-state-champion" high school football team who also married their "slightly pregnant" head cheerleader right after graduation. It turned out to be a very happy and fruitful union that produced a passel of children.

The two men wove their way through the crowd and came to a swaying stop before Sandy. Both men were sloshed, as were most of the other men. The men had largely gone to the same high school and attended the local state college. Many had also played sports together. Their monthly gathering at the Lodge became a chance to let their hair down and relive their athletic glories of yesteryear in a bacchanalian revel.

Sandy smiled at the tottering pair with bemused tolerance. Her husband, Harry, was a successful CPA, and John was the manager of his family's booming multi-generational automobile business. Both men were usually pretty straight-laced and traditional. They were good men, and tonight she would not begrudge them their monthly trip off the reservation.

John stared at Sandy blearily and mumbled more or less coherently, "Sandy, if this good-for-nothing husband of yours had not boggled my perfect pass and let them intercept, we would have been state champions... of the whole pea-picking state!"

Sandy laughed amiably, "Oh John, you all replay that same football game every month when you get together. It always comes out the same. Now shoo. Your wife is over there and ready to go home. Neither you nor Harry are in any shape to drive tonight."

Sandy knew what state the men were going to be in tonight and had quit drinking after one final glass of wine with supper and only sipped coffee thereafter.

Sandy hooked her arm firmly through her husband's and led him on a wavering path to the exit as Harry called out boisterous goodnights to his buddies. Sandy tucked her husband into the car passenger seat and got him safely buckled in. She got behind the steering wheel, buckled up, and pulled out into the cool fall night.

Sandy glanced over at her husband with an amused smile. "Have fun tonight, honey?"

Harry replied expansively, "Oh yeah, it was great to be back with the guys again."

Then he groaned pathetically, "Oh, but I am going to feel like death warmed over tomorrow."

Sandy laughed compassionately and teased, "Yes dear, you will. I'll give you some aspirin when we get home."

Harry's head bobbed, and he began snoring lightly, as the alcohol dimmed his senses.

As the car slipped onto the interstate, Sandy mused to herself, we all have our shortcomings. She supposed it was okay for any of us to indulge in our very human failings upon occasion, as long as they were only occasional. Sandy cut on the radio which filled the car with jazzy, upbeat music.

Bless his heart, Harry really was a good guy. He pitched in with domestic chores and watched kids periodically to make sure Sandy had time off to get with girlfriends and exercise. They had put off having kids a little to let her get settled in her career as a lawyer. But when the first of their two arrived five years ago, Sandy took off to be a full-time mom until the children got into school. Her wings were sorta temporarily clipped, one might say. Tending to little children was rewarding, but it was a full-time job!

The young couple never really needed her salary anyway. They always just banked it while she worked. Harry had invested it wisely, and they was surprisingly well off for a couple in their mid-thirties. Sandy's law firm wanted her back when she was ready and gave her some work from time to time just to keep her hand in the game. Things were quite comfortable for this moderately well-to-do and upwardly mobile couple.

Tonight Sandy did not go directly home. She drove a half-hour out of their way to the old historic Windsor Hotel on the edge of the financial district. The owners spent millions of dollars on a facelift and modernization program a few years back. The historic landmark hotel was now a Mecca for business travelers during the week. On the weekends the hotel's restaurant featured five-star chefs, and the Windsor's spacious, ground-floor nightclub adjacent to the lobby booked top bands. The nightclub attracted a well-heeled, young middle-aged and older clientele who could afford the steep prices. The twenty-something couples, singles, and teeny boppers frequented their own venues down by the river several miles away.

Sandy pulled to the hotel entrance, and the valet opened her door. Sandy passed the valet her keys and put the claim ticket in her purse. Sandy hopped out and walked briskly to the passenger side where she extracted her now somewhat awake husband.

Harry looked around in confusion mumbling, "Where are we?"

Sandy smiled and replied in a lilting voice, "At the Windsor, dear. I thought we might have a drink and listen to some music."

Harry nodded his head in befuddled agreement, "Oh yeah, let's. I like music."

Sandy steered Harry through the hotel's ornate entrance. They stopped in the restrooms briefly, and then the couple continued into the nightclub. There music and dancing were in full swing. Sandy settled them in a booth in a back rear corner. It was a secluded corner where they could still see the dance floor, but the music was not quite so loud.

An attractive young waitress in a very short skirt and tight top stopped at the table, smiled cheerfully, and chimed, "Hi Sandy. The regular? Martini with two olives for you and scotch with one ice cube for Harry."

Sandy smiled back, "Yes, please. Thanks Becky."

Sandy and Harry listened to the music, watched the dancers, and sipped the drinks Becky brought them. Harry was starting to fade again.

After about ten minutes, Sandy said quietly, "Honey, I think I will go dance some."

Harry blearily looked up mumbling, "Sure! I like to dance. Let's go."

Sandy laughed lightly and answered playfully, "Honey, I don't think my toes would be safe dancing with you tonight. Not in your state. Just wait here and enjoy the music. I'll find someone who will dance with me."

Harry replied slowly and thoughtfully, as though offering a profound pearl of wisdom, "That is probably wise tonight, my dear. I don't think I could cut much of a rug without falling down."

Harry's eyes fluttered closed and his breathing became steady. Sandy smiled fondly at him as she extracted a pair of high heels from her oversized purse and slipped them on. Her original sandals went into the purse which she then tucked between Harry and the back corner of the booth. She stood up and unbuttoned the bulky sweater she was wearing and dropped it on the seat of the booth next to her husband.

Underneath the sweater, Sandy wore a silver metallic fabric top with a deeply plunging front that ended below her navel and left her back bare. She loosened her hair that was in a bun, and her raven black tresses cascaded to her shoulder. Combined with her mid-thigh, leather skirt, these few adjustments transformed Sandy from a nice looking but rather ordinary house-frau into a stunning, sultry sexpot.

She disappeared into the crowd surrounding the dance floor.

Some time later, Harry came out of his light doze. Becky stopped by and dropped off another scotch with a cheery, "Here you go, Harry. Sandy said you probably needed a refill."

Becky answered Harry's unasked question with a vague hand wave toward the packed dance floor, "Your wife is out there dancing somewhere." Becky headed off to deliver more drinks.

Harry slurred, "Ah, thanks, Becky."

Harry settled back sipping his drink while he fuzzily watched the dancers swirling in an intimate, slow dance accompanied by a seductively voiced singer. The crowd opened, and Harry saw Sandy dancing with a tall, good looking guy about twenty feet away.

His somewhat blurry vision and hazy mental fog cleared as though an icy blast of arctic air had blown in. Sandy and the guy were dancing close, very close. She was clinging to him like moss on an oak tree!

But his hands! The man's right hand was caressing his wife's ass like he owned it. Right there in public on the dance floor. As Harry watched in astonishment, the man's hand slipped under his wife's short skirt and boldly cupped her fanny as he pulled her tighter into him. Quite a bit of his wife's normally private flesh and panties flashed out on the dance floor. Sandy seemed quite content with the man's bold ministrations.

The dancers turned so that Sandy caught sight of Harry watching her. She blew her husband an air kiss followed by a beaming smile and cheery wave. Then she snuggled her face into the tall man's broad chest and continued the intimate dance. The milling dancers on the floor closed together, and Harry's wife disappeared into the throng again.

Harry shook his head trying to clear his mushy thinking and make sense of what he had just observed. He certainly needed to have a word with his wife.

"We'll just see about this," he muttered as he started to slip out of the booth. But his legs felt wooden. They wouldn't move right. If he tried to walk out to the dance floor, he would fall flat on his face and embarrass himself and Sandy.

Oh, she was just dancing. There's no harm in that. He'd ask her about her partner's Christopher-Columbus-like exploring hands later.

Harry settled back in the booth, sipped his drink, and nodded in and out of a light doze.

Out on the dance floor, the music set ended. Sandy stood on her tiptoes and whispered seductively into her tall dance partner's ear, "You get to be the lucky one tonight!"

She took her partner's hand and led him briskly to the exit. The tall man glanced triumphantly at several other men clustered at the edge of the dance floor. They had all danced with Sandy earlier and were hoping for more. The tall man grinned; tonight it was his turn to call Bingo!

Sandy walked past the reception desk. The middle-aged woman there winked at Sandy and slid her the packet with her room keys. Sandy had reserved the room earlier and checked in while Harry was in the restroom when they arrived.

Sandy smiled and winked back as she took her keys.

In the elevator she swiped the key to activate the elevator and hit the tenth floor button. She turned back into her partner and reaching one hand behind his neck, pulled the tall man's head down into a deep, exploratory kiss. One of the man's hands slipped under her top and caressed her bare breast, gently teasing Sandy's fully erect nipple. The other hand slid under her skirt and pulled her into him as she spread her legs to straddle his forward thrust leg with a happy moan.

Sandy grinned to herself. Everyone always said that these elevators had security cameras recording all that happened so you better be careful what you did in hotel elevators. Well, if so, some security guy was getting an eyeful!

In the room, the couple hurriedly stripped out of their clothes and tumbled into bed in a passionate embrace. They kissed deeply as their hands flew in mutual exploration.

Sandy was already wet and the man moistened his finger and began a gentle personal massage as Sandy grunted her encouragement. He broke the kiss and began to kiss and suckle her breast. His thumb took over the gentle, manipulation of Sandy's clitoris while two fingers plunged into her eliciting a cry of pleasure. Faster the man worked on Sandy until her body thrashed and heaved with the tremors of an orgasm.

The man gave Sandy no rest. He slid on top, spreading her legs. Very, very slowly he worked his way down Sandy's breasts kneading, kissing, and sucking. She groaned and happily whimpered her satisfaction with his efforts. His kisses now caressed the flesh of her smooth belly. Then having worked his way down between her legs, he slowly and thoroughly kissed the tender flesh of her inner thighs, eliciting spasms and moans of pleasure from Sandy. When his tongue began gently and softly massaging her clitoris, Sandy was already in the throes of unbearable anticipation. The pleasure cascaded like storm waves crashing on the beach, one after another, each increasing in size and energy. Finally, she reached another shuddering climax. This delight convulsed her body and elicited an undulating howl of primaeval pleasure.

Panting now, Sandy shouted, "Goddamn, get up here and fuck me. Now, right now!"

The man repositioned himself to happily comply with Sandy's orders. As the man slowly entered her, he watched her eyes widen in pleasure and listened to her urgent moans of "Yes, oh, yes."

Now he began to thrust vigorously, and Sandy heaved her hips mightily to meet each of the man's thrusts. The tempo of his thrusts escalated wildly; the slap of flesh on flesh thundered as their grunts and cries reverberated around the room. The bed groaned and creaked in futile protest of the violent vigor of the copulating couple. The man came first which triggered Sandy's third intense, body-racking orgasm.

She lay there under him panting happily as she felt him pulsating in her and then slowly wilt and slip out.

They wrapped themselves into a sweaty, sticky post coital cuddle with limbs intertwined. Their racing hearts began to slow and their breathing returned to normal. Sandy nuzzled her lover's neck and stroked his chest. He in turn cupped her breast in one hand and murmured, "Oh that was marvelous."

After a few blissful minutes in the golden afterglow of sex, Sandy sighed and whispered, "Well baby, that was great. Would love a repeat. However, I have a husband downstairs and a babysitter to relieve at home. I better get going."

Sandy gathered her scattered clothes and went into the bathroom. She quickly cleaned up and redressed. Her purse was downstairs with her husband so there was a limit to how much fixing she could do to her disheveled appearance. Looking in the mirror, she cocked her head, grinned, and said lightly, "Well, I'll just have to go back out in public looking like a just laid hussy, which of course is exactly what I am."

Sandy walked back into the bedroom where her lover still lay sprawled naked on the bed. She smiled, bent over, and gave him a soft, lingering kiss. Straightening up, she said gayly, "Well ta-ta for now, my dear. That was certainly fun."

The man looked up at Sandy hopefully suggesting, "Maybe a repeat next month?"

Sandy laughed and teased, "Oh honey, you know I like variety. I just had a delectable dessert. Maybe next month I will want a savory entree or a nutty delicacy!"

Sandy bent over and gave him a deep kiss letting her tongue slip tantalizing into his mouth before breaking the kiss and straightening up again. She laughed and said softly, "But it was a mighty nice dessert tonight, wasn't it? We'll have to see. Sometimes lightning strikes twice in the same place."

Sandy left without further ado and made her way to the elevator and down to the reception desk.

The woman behind the desk grinned at her and exclaimed, "Well look at you, Sandy! You certainly look as though you had a good time with that hunka hunka of burning love you took upstairs. Everything satisfactory tonight, honey?"

Sandy returned the keys with a naughty smirk and exclaimed, "You betcha!"

The receptionist shook her head in amusement and laughed, "Shall I reserve you a room for next month."

Sandy returned the laugh with an emphatic, "You betcha!"

On her way back to the nightclub, Sandy detoured by the valet desk to let them know she would be needing the car shortly. In the nightclub she worked her way back to her husband's booth, stopping to chat briefly with a few patrons here and there while she was en-route to her husband. At the booth she settled her tab with Becky with a generous tip, collected her husband, purse and sweater, and then made her way back to the hotel entrance. A woozy Harry held her arm for balance and navigated his way alongside his wife.

The valet had the car right at the entrance with the car and heater running and waiting for her. The valet helped Sandy pour Harry into the passenger seat and get buckled in. Then he held the driver's side door for her. Sandy gave the valet her claim ticket with the fee and a twenty dollar tip and hopped in behind the steering wheel.

The valet enjoyed a generous bonus visual tip of exposed thigh and breast as Sandy got settled in the car. Sandy gave him an impish smile and wagged her finger at him humorously. With all present and accounted for and safely buckled in, Sandy pulled out and sedately headed home to relieve the babysitter.

The nip in the autumn air had revived Harry somewhat. He was mulishly trying to remember something. It was right there on the edge of his consciousness, but as he tried to grasp the mental image, it drifted off into the alcoholic fog that clouded his mind.

Wait! Eureka there it was. The image of the tall man feeling up his wife on the dance floor. That was what he wanted to remember to talk to Sandy about. My God, what was she thinking?

Harry turned to look at Sandy and began excitedly, "Sandy, I want to ask... uhm."

Harry stared at his wife. He was coming more awake now and really saw her for the first time. He exclaimed in a strident, hectoring voice, "Sandy, look at you. What are you wearing? Your boobs are about to fall out of that thing! My God, you are half naked! You were wearing that thing when you were dancing. But you didn't have it on at the Lodge!"

Sandy glanced at her outraged husband with a smirk and innocently replied, "Yes I did, dear. I just had my sweater on over my, uhm, dancing outfit. I just wanted to be sure some of the boys at the club would ask me to dance tonight. It was a very effective outfit."

She glanced down and realized the crisp night air had her nipples tenting the thin fabric quite provocatively. She waved her hand at her largely bare bosom, and asked her husband teasingly, "Can you imagine what would have happened if I had worn this to the lodge. It's a bit scandalous for there. All the boys would have been baying around me like coon hounds on their quarry's trail!" She laughed and teased, "Or more accurately they would be baying on the trail of your wife's tail."

Harry stared at his wife in befuddled confusion, unsure what to say. Then the image came back to him, and he all but shouted, "That man! The tall guy! He had his hands all over your ass. Why, why, I even saw his hand go under your skirt!"

Sandy chuckled and said with an amused smile, "Oh that Thomas. Yes, he is a naughty one. His hands do tend to 'go where no man has gone before,' I would say."

Sandy furrowed her brows in mock concentration for a few seconds and then giggled, "Or was that Gene? I always get those two mixed up so I am not quite sure of the name of Mr. wandering hands with whom I was dancing."

"It's not funny! That is no way for my wife to act."

Harry sat back in his seat, staring at his wife in shock. After a minute, he whispered, "My God Sandy, that man didn't fuck you, did he?"