Ann: The Married Years Ch. 37

He knew from experience that once she came, it would be oh so easy to make her do it again. It was such a far cry from how she was before they met. She'd never had more than one climax whenever she did something sexual, confessing ignorance to what it felt like to have a multiple orgasm. Now he seemed to be able to make her cum just by the way he looked at her, and she loved him for opening up that world to her.

Yet she was nervous as they sat there, waiting for the room to clear out a bit. It was one thing to cum like she just had at the end of the show. It would be another altogether to do it in the lobby, standing in the middle, her cries of ecstasy calling out to anyone that cared to look.

When the back of the theatre cleared, they were the only ones left in the surrounding rows. There were still people filing out from the front of the place, but they were at least alone in their area. That allowed Neil to reach inside her coat and turn off the vibrator, removing it from her pussy. He dropped it casually into the bag of stuff she'd bought, along with the holster she'd had strapped to her leg. Putting her toy gun inside it, he placed it in the bag as well.

"Come on, Miss Bouvier. Time to go," he said as he stood.

"Uh... okay," she said nervously, taking his hand.

She walked behind him, out into the crowded two-story lobby. He made a direct line toward the ladies' room, leading her there, the bag of goodies in his off hand as they maneuvered through the people.

"Not many people have left," she said, surprised that it seemed just as packed as when they had arrived.

"It's raining out," he said as he craned his neck, looking through the high windows in front. "And... they have a valet. I'm sure that backs it up a bit."

"Do you really think that many people used the valet?"

"No, but I bet they wish they had now," he laughed as they arrived next the restroom. "I'm guessing they're waiting for the rain to let up. It's coming down pretty hard... and most of these people are dressed up like you."

She snickered at his inference. "I doubt anyone is dressed like I am right now, but I get what you mean."

He pressed her against the wall next to the door, his lips finding hers again. His hand found its way to the few buttons that were still fastened in the middle of the coat, flicking open the top one as he finished their kiss. "You're right. No one is dressed like you are."

"What are you doing now," she whispered breathlessly, her eyes wide and unblinking, a nervous smile appearing.

"Preparing you for your curtain call," he winked.

It was suddenly hard for her to stay in character. She wanted to call him Neil, and ask just what he had planned for her. Whatever it was, she knew it was big, the butterflies in her stomach nearly making it ache. He was shielding her with his body, but there was no hiding the fact that her coat was now totally open in the front.

"James..."

"Yes?"

"What is this? What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to learn to follow orders, Miss Bouvier. If we're going to work together, I have to be able to count on you to do what you're told, no matter what. We failed in our mission tonight, because you panicked. I need to make sure that never happens again. So we're going to teach you how to follow orders. You're going to do exactly what I say. Is that understood?"

Taking a deep breath, she knew this wasn't just a challenge from a character he was playing. Neil was behind the persona, and he was doing what she loved him to do. He was about to make her do something. She assumed at that point they were going to walk out with the front of her coat undone, showing off her hints of her naked body underneath. She might be able to walk slowly and not show much, or he might pull her along, making it fly open. Regardless, she nodded. Whatever he wanted her to do, she would do it. She wasn't going to disappoint him, or James, again.

"I understand, James. I'm ready. Let's do this."

"You don't even know what it is yet."

"You're going to make me walk out like this," she replied confidently.

"Hardly," he scoffed. "The point of this is to prove that you need to commit fully to the mission, no matter what it takes."

"I know."

"No you don't, but you will," he chuckled.

Opening the door to the ladies' room, he pointed for her to step inside. She walked in reluctantly, turning to check and make sure the coast was clear. "You're not coming in here with me, are you?"

"Again... hardly. Give me your coat."

"Excuse me?" she laughed.

"I'm not kidding. Give me your coat, or you can find your own way back to the Inn." She took it off, handing it to him through the partially open door. "Go into a stall and wait for me to contact you. I'll tell you what to do then."

"Contact me? How?"

He took out his mobile phone, shaking it back and forth. "I'll call you on yours. Get going before someone sees you like this," he said, letting the door close.

The thrill that went through him was palpable; he nearly skipped away from the doorway on his way to the theatre exit. He had to calm himself, tying to keep his cool as he carried her coat over his arm, the bag in hand. Stepping outside into the cold, he bristled, thankful there was an awning over the sidewalk for him to wait. He stood in line patiently, waiting for one of the valets to get to him.

"Your ticket, sir," said the same young man that had parked his car.

"Here you go," Neil answered, handing him the slip of paper with the number on it.

Retrieving the keys from the big enclosed box by the sidewalk, he nodded. "I'll be right back."

Neil watched him run off into the pouring rain, shaking his head. A gust of wind blew through, making him turn his back toward it. "I can't believe it's not snowing," he shivered.

Checking her watch for the third time, she noticed it still hadn't seemed to move. "What am I doing here?" she asked herself. "How did I let it get to this?"

She knew the answer to both questions. She was there because he told her to, and she let it get to that point because it excited her more than she cared to admit. As much as she tried to pretend that she didn't know what he was going to make her do, she knew all too well. And that was such a turn on. It scared her to no end, but she couldn't deny how wet she was as she sat in the stall waiting for him to call.

The phone startled her, even though she was holding it, and she knew it would be ringing. She had pulled it out of her clutch purse, checking it to make sure it was on. She'd had it turned off because her battery was low, and she'd forgotten to bring her charger. Answering on the first ring, she said, "Hello?"

"The car is on the way now. I can see the valet driving it toward me, so listen very carefully."

"Okay... I'm ready."

"You're going to walk out of the restroom, and you're going to walk through the lobby and out the front door. I'll be in the car."

"Holy shit," she breathed, her mind racing as his command registered.

"I want you to strut like you're a goddess. Keep your head up, and look straight ahead. Do not allow yourself to make eye contact with anyone in the lobby. You stare straight ahead. Focus your eyes on the exit sign above the door. When you're outside, I want you to allow the valet to open your car door, and when he does, I want you thank him, and then give him a passionate kiss before getting inside. Once he closes the door, we're driving away. Do you understand?"

"Yes, James."

"Get going. The car is almost here."

"I'm already on my way."

She didn't have time to worry about it, or to even process it. She knew from the moment he had her remove her dress that there would be risk involved; that someone in that theatre was going to get a glimpse of her body. She just never imagined it would be everyone, and all of her.

Thinking back to a few months before when she'd gotten back into exposing herself for him and the camera, she recalled what she'd done. Flashing for him at the park had been the start, followed by not only flashing, but totally stripping for him inside a fast food restaurant. He was the only one that had seen her, but the exhilaration came back.

But then he'd made her walk down a mountainside topless, a load of cum dripping from her face, and a couple of men saw her as they passed by them on the trail. It was that moment that flashed through her mind, and she recognized two things. Her love of being an exhibitionist excited her as much as it ever had, and that thrill was magnified tenfold when someone actually saw her. All Neil was doing was pushing her further each time. This wasn't going to be the first time strangers had seen her naked, but it was obviously the most extreme.

She burst out of the bathroom with a purpose, and she began strutting seductively as he instructed, only to fall victim to the silence. At first there were gasps and some catcalls, but they were quickly followed by a hush that hit her in the chest. Perhaps that was caused by the eyes that honed in on the decorative chain hanging between her nipples. It was hard to tell with her eyes focused on the exit sign above the door. Indeed, she was walking with her head held high, her eyes trained like lasers on the red letters. It was the easiest way to avoid direct eye contact, and it kept her from moving her head.

Her pace was slow and deliberate, her hips swaying; the heels making her breasts bounce seductively as she crossed the marble floor. All she heard now were her footsteps; they were loud and distinctive, echoing off the walls as if the room were empty. The path in front of her parted, giving her a runway. And that's how it felt, like a model passing by an audience, admiring the latest fashion trend. She didn't smile; instead her expression one of pure sexual magnetism. She was smoldering as she walked through them; it was a wonder they didn't burst into flames as she passed them by.

She could feel her nipples throbbing in the nooses of the chain. They pulsed in time with her clit, which seemed to be commanding her pussy to leak, the wetness beginning to trail down her thighs.

"I'm going to fuck his cock off for this," she swore. That thought wasn't Pamela's. She was pure Anna at the moment, reveling in what her husband challenged her to do. And she was dreaming of the reward she'd get for being such a perfect slutty wife.

She didn't know who the man was that held the theatre door for her. Her eyes had shifted to the car, parked in front with the engine running; their getaway vehicle. Gripping her clutch tightly, she nodded in appreciation, thanking the gentleman. She was still careful not to smile, wanting her mood to appear sultry, not playful. Strange, she felt no shame or embarrassment this time, a quiet confidence surrounding her as if she were wearing armor. In her mind she was meant to be naked and on display for all to see; her singular purpose to be sexually objectified. The idea of that turned her on so much she didn't even blush. If anything, she owned the moment, and the room.

Stepping outside, she was hit with a wall of harsh frigid air, along with the spray of cold rain. At first she recoiled, her flight instincts wanting to kick in. Fighting them off, she recovered quickly, continuing her measured tempo toward the car. Concentrating on her the sway of her hips, she smiled inside, knowing her ass was being stared at through the front windows of the theatre.

Her eyes locked onto the young man standing next to the passenger door, his mouth agape as he saw her approaching. Her face lit up, her smile so wide and welcoming it caught him off guard, as if a naked babe walking toward him wasn't shocking enough. He stood frozen, unable to tear his eyes from her luscious body.

Ann stood next to him, waiting patiently in spite of the freezing temperature and steady rain. Continuing to smile, she finally spoke.

"Were you going to open the door for me, or were you planning to keep leering?"

"Huh?"

"You can keep looking... Michael," she said as she read his nametag. "That's kind of the point of my doing this for my husband," she grinned.

"Oh... sorry," he replied with a nervous laugh, reaching for the door.

She stepped into him, her body brushing up against his. Draping her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer. His hands automatically wrapping her waist, he touched her bare wet skin, letting them drift. She didn't stop him. Instead, she moaned as she pressed her mouth tenderly against his, her tongue slipping past his lips. They became engrossed in the kiss, the two of them making out like teenagers. His left hand moved down to her ass, squeezing it; his right moving between them to fondle her breast.

Neil let them go for a moment, before calling out. "We should be going, Pamela. People are waiting to get their cars."

She reluctantly pulled back; her hair drenched as she batted her eyes at her young suitor. "You're an excellent kisser, Michael I enjoyed that very much. I hope you did too." Running her hand over his crotch, she grinned. "I think that answers my question."

"Yes Ma'am," he replied, showing his manners, and just how young he really was.

That thought suddenly concerned her, wondering if she'd crossed a taboo line she never considered when she approached him. "How old are you, Michael?"

"I just turned twenty," he replied.

She sighed in relief as she climbed into the car, making sure she gave him a long, lingering look at her pussy when she opened her thighs for him. His eyes locked onto the shiny golden ring adorning her labia.

"I'm not a 'Ma'am', Michael. You can call me Pamela. Now get a good look... I want you to remember me like this when you jack off tonight, okay?"

"Okay," he replied robotically, his eyes scanning her to memory.

She pulled her leg inside and smiled politely. "Good night, Michael. Thanks for opening my door."

"You're welcome... Pamela," he grinned, almost embarrassed to call her by name.

"You can close it now. I need to get going so my husband can take me somewhere and fuck my pretty little brains out."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I wasn't sure he was going to close the door," Ann said as she dried her hair with the towel Neil had handed her once they were on the road toward the Inn.

She'd first dried off her body, hoping to warm up. It helped that he had cranked the heat up on high, and that he had it blowing through the floor and windshield vents so it wouldn't land directly on her body. As she patted her hair, she was recalling what she'd just done.

"You did well, Pamela," he grinned, navigating the road through the blustery conditions.

"I'm glad you liked it."

"Did you?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

"I've never been more proud of you," he replied, patting her on the thigh. He gave her a quick glance, and she recognized it was her husband, not James Bond that was looking at her, the words genuinely his and not that of the character he was playing.

She wanted to ask him if this was the new benchmark for their games, but she didn't want to spoil the mood. There would be plenty of time to revisit their weekend, asking questions and discussing the ramifications of what they'd done. They always did whenever they tried something sexually adventurous, wanting to confirm how they felt afterward.

They'd talk things out, deciding if they both enjoyed how things transpired. If something happened that one of them didn't care for, they would hash it out. There were even times when they would cross something off their list, not regretting having done it, but acknowledging it wasn't a choice they'd make again. It was all about respect, and wanting to make sure the games they played didn't harm their relationship.

That time wasn't now. She was still into what they were doing, and the weekend wasn't over. She meant what she said to the valet. Her next objective was to stick to the script of every Bond movie she'd ever seen. The mission, although by definition a failure against the objective, was nonetheless complete. What she hoped would follow would be the obligatory romantic liaison between Bond and his girl of the moment. Damn the romance; like the night before, she longed for him to pound her roughly and relentlessly into the night.

Once again she was startled by the phone ringing, just like she had been in the restroom. This time the phone was his, and he answered it right away. She became concerned almost at once, fearful that something was wrong in their real life. But he never broke character.

"Bond," he stated calmly.

She listened to half the conversation, wondering who he was talking to, but she couldn't tell. All she knew for sure was it was supposed to be someone from MI6, and he was reporting that the mission had been a failure. He took responsibility for the missed opportunity, apologizing for the lack of professionalism shown in the execution of the plan. He also vowed to track down the drug lord and finish the assignment. "If Sanchez is still in the area, I'll find him sir."

That had her wondering just what else he had in mind. All she cared about was fucking, her mind still on the word he'd planted in her head an hour before.

"She's with me," he said as he glanced at her again, this time with a smirk on his face. "No... her cover wasn't blown. She was in disguise." Nodding a couple of times, he listened before adding, "Don't worry sir. I've already started debriefing her."

She snickered at his quip, but remained quiet as he finished his conversation. "No, my cover is still in play too, so we're going to continue using them until we get to the mountain safe house tomorrow. Then we'll get our new covers and assignments, and we'll go from there."

Hanging up, he slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket, gripping he wheel tighter. "Can't say I like talking on those bloody things while I'm driving," he commented, his colorful use of an English colloquialism making her giggle. He was playing the British spy to the hilt.

"Who were you talking to?" she asked.

"M. And he's none too pleased with our mission. He wants to know what went wrong. I'll have some explaining to do when I get back to London."

"I'm sorry James," she said quietly, actually feeling some remorse.

"It's okay Pamela. But I have to evaluate what happened. It was a good plan. It should have worked."

The rest of the trip to the Inn was made in silence, the conditions becoming harsher as they went. He was fighting the wind more than the rain, but the combination was making it more difficult. Finally arriving a half-hour later, he pulled in front. It was well after midnight; the play having ended around eleven.

"Where's my coat?" she asked, wondering how she was supposed to go inside.

"In the hatch," he replied. "You didn't need one to leave the theatre, you don't need one now."

"Are you serious?"

"After the conversation I just had with M, I need to make sure you follow directions."

"It's not that. I just got dried off," she said with a playful wink.

Actually, she got butterflies all over again. It was one thing to walk out of the theatre like she had, because it was unlikely anyone recognized her. But they were staying at the inn, and somehow that made it different; just not enough to make her back down from his request. She almost did, when he told her to go inside and wait by the front desk for him instead of heading straight to the room. But she treated it like his phone call to her in the restroom. She opened the door and got out, walking slowly to the front door before she could think about it. She channeled the last time the played Bond games, when he made her walk into the lobby of a Sheraton to meet Tammy, who played an FBI agent.

Neil arrived five minutes later after parking the car, umbrella in hand as he carried her coat and the bag. She was at the front desk talking casually to Brooke, who acted as if she'd known she was coming in that way. And that's because she did. Unbeknownst to Ann, Neil had called Brooke while she was in the restroom taking off her dress. He got her involved just like Ann had at the beginning of their adventure, asking if she'd be willing to continue to help them in their fantasy.