Ascending Lauren Ch. 20

"Hey there! So glad you could make it!" Lauren winked and wiggled her fingers, intoxicated, not moving from the biker's side.

Zane quickly dropped his arm from her waist, looking a bit guilty. Breaking away, Lauren pulled Corey into the group's circle and gave him a peck on the cheek, causing his heart to sink. The air about her was different, a bit distant. Odder yet was the way she introduced him...like one would an old friend.

"Hey everybody, this is Corey!"

A murmur rose from the seats as several hands shot up in acknowledgment. Trying to remember their names, the executive office manager - who prided herself on a great memory - went around the table.

"This is Kevin and his wife Mable, and um, Bill and Debbie, I think."

The two couples nodded pleasantly.

"And the two single studs over here are, eh, Arty and Bennie. Amirite?"

The young men gave her a smile and thumbs up.

"YES!" Lauren clapped her hands pleased with herself, jumping up and down. Most of the men were also pleased, watching her tiny boobs bounce freely under the turtleneck.

Corey managed a weak smile, then tried to pull her in. To his dismay, she spun out of his arms and quickly returned to Zane's side, connecting to him like Velcro, one knee bent with a hand on the mechanic's chest. The older man's eyes grew narrow whilst Zane's grew wider, the latter not quite sure of how his long-time friend was going to react. The two stared cooly at each other until, mercifully, a waitress happened by. Stopping her, Lauren laughed and pointed at the newcomer.

"Newbie buys the next round," she smiled sweetly at Corey while plucking at Zane's hair.

As everyone ordered more drinks, Lauren continued to paw at the biker, grinding the front of her skirt into his thigh, occasionally stealing an irreverent and naughty glance at her flummoxed husband. For the next several minutes, the odd man out listened to the grease monkeys talk shop like there was nothing wrong with the picture. And to them, nothing was; they were just out with some coworkers having a few drinks. Secretly, though, they were most happy to see their buddy had brought his smoking hot girlfriend again. The last time they'd seen her, she'd just blown their star mechanic in the men's room.

Not knowing much about motorcycles, Corey tuned them out, instead fixating on watching his wife and best friend interact. How smitten she'd become with him! Much more than he would have thought.

Did he really fuck her THAT well?

A half a beer later, it became clear the two were purposefully ignoring him, acting like he wasn't even there. Now and again, Zane glanced over nervously and looked like he wanted to say something, but Lauren always regained his attention, giggling at some random thing. At least his friend had the decency to look a bit shamefaced.

Corey knew deep down it was all a test. But Zane going along with it was hard to get past, especially after their recent heart-to-hearts. Then again, the lure of pussy was an age-old cause of conflict, making many a man do much worse.

The dynamics changed when Bill and Debbie got up and headed to the dance floor, pulling Zane and Lauren with them. Exhausted, Corey flopped in one of the empty chairs, looking dejected.

"Been awhile, friend," Bennie clinked the project manager's longneck.

Not long enough, but okay. "Uh, yeah, good to see you."

"Let's see, must've been at Dusty's Roadkill, right? After that awards ceremony. Glad your pal brought Ashley 'round again. He really hasn't mentioned her much."

Jesus, that's right. To them she's Ashley.

"You remember those snaps of her in those leathers, right?"

Corey shot an irritated look at the man. "How could I forget?"

"Yeah, no shit, huh? Too bad he didn't take any real interesting ones, if you know what I mean?" Bennie grinned with a crusty laugh. "Tell me man, since you're his bro...you ever seen her naked?"

"Ben!" Mable admonished the motor technician. "You're drunk. Have some respect, huh?"

"Just askin'. God what I wouldn't do for a crack at that."

"Straight up," Arty chimed in, agreeing with his friend. "What a cutie. Centerfold material. Wonder if she's gonna blow him in the john again tonight," he elbowed Bennie.

"You're a bunch of creeps," Mable rolled her eyes.

Corey couldn't disagree. They all looked towards the dance floor and saw Zane with a silly expression plastered on his face while Lauren pranced around him in circles, twerking, like some kind of drunken Mayan mating ceremony.

"At this rate, she will," Kevin blurted out, earning him a hard jab in the ribs from his wife.

Bored with talking about a woman who was clearly out of their league, Bennie, Arty and Kevin began chatting about something completely unrelated, leaving Corey to watch his wife and oldest confidant hump each other as a slow song set the mood. The godforsaken lump returned, choking his throat. Against a not so powerful will, there was a tingle below of fresh pruriency, a sure sign the kink had not abandoned him. Instead, it seemed to be thriving at what was playing out before him, obsessed with the treatment bestowed upon the lowly cuckold. The feelings began to overtake prudence and he closed his eyes, letting it all wash over his warped and depraved body.

+++++

Lauren knew exactly what she was doing, and it was working. As she fawned over Zane in plain sight of her husband, the affects were clear...in both men. Corey was predictable. Show interest another man and he fetishized it in many complicated ways. Zane was more straightforward. A recent divorcee, he was simply looking to get laid. No mystery there. Nor had there been a plan B that night, either. Had Corey not shown up, she would have still gotten her jollies. In the end, she was glad it was going the way it was supposed to.

It's more fun this way.

+++++

"You okay, man? You want another beer?"

Opening his eyes, Corey blinked at Bennie. "No, I'm fine."

Somewhere between wallowing in the building angst, he'd apparently also taken to stroking the bottle's longneck like some kind of perverted phallic symbol. Scanning the room, he saw Lauren stand on her tiptoes, taking Zane's face into her hands, and kissing him deeply, as the downtempo song ended. They made no attempt at covering their eager tongues searching each other's mouths. Dropping back on the three-inch heels, she put her head on the large man's chest and looked over at her husband, a broad, disparaging smile creeping across her face. The consternation in Corey's face told her all she needed to know. As they walked back to the table, Picardo took a detour on the other side of the bar.

"Are you sure he's diggin' this? It sure doesn't look like it."

"Enjoyment is subjective, right? Besides, he can stop it if the flames grow too high. At least I hope he would, 'cause it's going to get a hell of a lot hotter."

Zane shook his head. "I hope you know what you're doing."

The office manager's face suddenly turned solemn as she led the rest of the way to where his coworkers were enjoying fresh beverages.

So do I.

+++++

Being the last to the table, Lauren was tapped to take a group photo of the mechanics and their wives. After taking a few - just in case - Mable's eyes grew big. While staring at the camera she noticed something about Zane's date that hadn't been obvious before in the bar's dim lighting.

"Oh my God, Ashley! Are you guys engaged? Zane, you dog! Why didn't you tell us?"

Lauren immediately held up her left hand, showing off the brilliant rock.

"What? Noooo!" she giggled, pulling Zane closer. "This big lug is my date, not my husband."

That got a few snickers. It was clear they thought her response was just a silly joke.

"On the other hand," she waved in Corey's direction, "he is."

The air around the table thinned as the group fell silent, made weirder by the sounds of the pub all around them. Several looked between the couple and the man she just called her husband.

Finally, Debbie cleared her throat. "Okay, so you guys have an open marriage?" Then to Mable, "It's quite common these days."

"Oh no," Lauren corrected the woman. "He just likes to watch me fuck." Zane winced as she draped herself over him. "Manly men, like this hunk!"

All eyes went to the older man, who felt a sudden urge to vomit. No longer was it jest. Now the titters were for real, some trying to suppress them, some not. The beer coming out Arty's nose served to highlight the initial shock.

"Really?" Corey mouthed at his wife.

With a wicked laugh, Lauren pulled her date towards the dance floor. "C'mon, move those feet!" Zane followed, doing anything that would get him away from his friend, who was obviously going to need a moment.

The other wives did the same as well, tugging on their husbands, mostly to break the palpable tension. This left Corey with the two single mechanics, both with sly but inquisitive expressions on their faces. It took them a minute to articulate what was they were thinking, but not long.

"So, dude, you didn't mention you were married to that fox, even when we were talking that all that smack."

"Must've slipped my mind."

"Sure, whatever you say. Were you like, getting off on that or something?"

Corey's hand squeezed the beer bottle so tight his knuckles were turning white. Months ago, he would have bounced it off this clown's head. But now? Now he was riveted to the spot, an unseen force holding his tongue, a twisted divertissement borne from the sick pleasure of just being outed.

Arty blew the remaining beer from his nostrils, his face sticky from the brew. "Shit, man, I gotta go clean up."

The remaining two men watched him waddle through the throng of other patrons, wiping his cheeks. When he was gone, Bennie drew his chair closer, his voice hushed.

"So, you...uh, you really let Pic tap that, huh?"

Corey said nothing. His gaze had returned to Lauren and Zane on the dance floor.

"Noooo shit, man? Like, whenever he wants to?"

The lack of responses confirmed Bennie's assumptions.

"Goddamn, son, can I get in on this? I mean, hell," the tech chortled, "if you want to sit in the corner and beat off, be my guest!"

This time Corey turned towards Zane's coworker and blinked. That's it. Just blinked.

"Hey, I don't mean any offense, okay? Ain't nothing wrong if you like to watch your ol' lady get boned. To each his own, I always say. I mean, that kind of porn looks pretty kinky on the internet...yeah, yeah...even...transcendental."

The guy beamed, proud of himself for using such a big word.

Corey gave Bennie a most contemptuous look and turned back to where his wife was practically raping his best friend. The pair were groping and grinding now, not even dancing, both quite fucked up from several hours of drinking. They pawed, they mauled, they kissed. Zane dipped her here and there, hand cupping a breast or ass cheek, evidently no longer caring who was watching. She pushed her ass into his crotch, raking a finger or two over it in passing. Pelvis against pelvis, they turned in a circle, rubbing and stroking, oblivious to anyone else in the place.

And through it all, Corey was aroused. Really aroused, his cock slowly growing beneath ever-tightening pants.

The whole scene was electrifying and humiliating, all at once. He should have been angry at being exposed in such a manner, even if they were casual acquaintances. After all, this was still their hometown.

But he wasn't. In this respect, the kink kept him in check, reserved, paralyzed by the stew of emotions that were keeping him at bay. It was a curse; a pathetic, profane, and glorious spell which couldn't be broken, nor did he want it to be. He'd been humiliated to be sure, but there was something about it that turned him on, made him shiver with sensual gratification.

"Listen, friend," Bennie continued, scribbling something on a napkin with the check pen, "it'd be a shame to let Pic have all the fun. How 'bout you give me a call? Whatta ya say? Maybe get me a date with your ol' lady? I swear she won't be able to walk for a week."

Everyone turned and stared when the grayer of the two men quickly stood and landed both fists soundly on the table, sending empty glasses flying. In an instant, Zane jetted in from the dance floor and put himself in the middle of his two friends, apparently not as completely unaware as previously thought.

"All good, boys?" he asked, gathering from Corey's expression things were not.

"Tell your fucking pal here that Lau...Ashley...is off limits."

Picardo pat his oldest buddy on the chest, while simultaneously staring Bennie down until he took a seat.

"I'm out," Corey growled, turning for the door, ignoring Lauren as he blew past her.

"Us too, man," Zane called after him, "right behind ya."

Outside in the parking lot, Corey meandered between the Jetta and truck, bending over, chastising himself for being such a prick. He had no right to react that way. Bennie was right. After all, what was wrong with wanting a piece of ass from an obvious slut? Absolutely nothing. Standing, he took a deep breath and looked around, only to see Zane with Lauren in tow, stumbling across the gravel, repeatedly dropping the pickup's ignition keys.

Oh, hell no, you're not driving ANYWHERE.

"Not a chance, Zane."

"Cors, really, I got this."

Unlocking the Volkswagen, the older - and apparently wiser - of the three opened the front and back passenger doors.

"Get in," he barked. "We'll come back tomorrow."

Knowing his friend was right, Zane dropped the keys into Corey's hand and ducked in the back. A bit more serene, the ambushed husband began to close the rear door when to his surprise Lauren dove onto the seat next to his friend, leaving the front passenger seat cold and empty.

The lump got bigger. So this is how it's going to be, huh?

"Home James," she ordered, pointing towards the road, giggling uncontrollably.

Rattled, Corey slid behind the wheel and started the engine, his head imperceptibly shaking with disquiet. Moments later, the white sedan pulled out of Shady's lot with one bedeviled driver and two drunks in the back, whispering and falling about like a couple of blathering fools.

+++++

The Iowan night sky had become clear and cold, filled with plenty of star shine to pave the forty-five-minute drive back to the Miller residence. As the German coupe hurtled down the highway, there were as many distinct streams of consciousness marinating in the dark cabin as there were occupants.

Zane sat awkwardly in the seat directly behind his friend, the cramped space forcing his knees to an uncomfortable position. Next to him, behind the front passenger's seat, was Lauren, who like him, had drunk way more than intended. This left both hammered and very horny, each looking out their respective windows, thinking back to that night in Bakersfield. Although invited to the bar, the mechanic had secretly hoped Corey wouldn't show, knowing his specter would only cause unease amongst the three, and probably ruin any chances at a repeat with the slinky wife. Lauren looked incredibly hot sitting there in that thin, braless turtleneck and leather skirt. It was only Corey's presence in the driver's seat that made him behave, although Zane wasn't sure the guy would do anything about it if he did make a move. Certainly, the outing of her husband had taken both men by surprise and didn't help alleviate any tension. And yet, it served to show the older man was willing to take whatever his wife could dish out, all in the name of their unconventional lifestyle.

Lauren sat inches away from one of the best lovers she'd ever had, alternating her gaze between Zane's rugged features and the back of Corey's balding gray scalp as green road signs flew by the window. Fueled by the night's alcohol - and desire to put on a show for her husband - she had practically attacked the biker on the dance floor, getting more venereous by the minute. By the time they left, her panties were wet and she needed to be fucked. It was just a matter of where not when. And Judging from Corey's seemingly laissez-faire attitude at the honky-tonk - at least until the last thirty seconds - he wouldn't object to a little fun either. After all, wasn't that what he craved?

The view of the cosmos out the windshield was lost on Corey as he struggled to stay in his lane and keep tabs on what was happening in the backseat. A seat belt indicator on the Jetta's dash suddenly appeared, tattling on one of the passengers. Through the rearview mirror, he could see his wife and buddy were closer now, biceps and thighs touching, occasionally cracking up over something one of them said. But for the most part, both sat still, looking out the window at nothing in particular. Internalizing the situation, Corey fumbled with the radio dial, searching for more classic rock. Landing on an old power ballad from way back, he began tapping his fingers on the wheel, hoping to calm his nerves. That almost worked too. Until Lauren had other ideas.

"C'mon baby, put something on we can groove to," she purred, placing her chin on the driver's headrest.

"This is a car, not a dance club," Corey replied, clearly in no mood for hip-hop.

"Pleeeze?"

"No."

"Okay, fuck it then, I'll change it myself!"

Unexpectedly - and with much-impaired difficulty - Lauren began to climb between the front seats and over the middle console to get at the radio controls. The movement caused Corey to momentarily swerve.

"Jesus, what are you doing?"

"Change it!"

"Sit down!"

"Chainzzzzz zit!"

With one eye on the road, Corey used his right hand to get around her flailing arms and push away. When he did, she fell back, giggling.

"Mmm, hello there, lover."

Peering into the rearview mirror, Corey saw his wife had landed directly on Zane's lap.

“Pushing me into your friend’s arms again, I see,” she cracked up, but was the only one laughing.

Hugging the biker's neck tightly, she briefly stuck out a sassy tongue at her husband, then turned and found the big man's mouth. For the next few minutes, they made out, Zane periodically opening one eye to make sure nothing lethal was coming his way from the front seat. The back got eerily quiet as the kissing continued, growing deeper and more passionate, the music drowning out the increasingly heavy breathing.

In the effort to divide his attention between the road and activity in the back, Corey nearly missed an exit. He managed to veer at the last second, almost hitting a jersey barrier, but was able to bring the car under control. After navigating several flyovers, he finally looked back into the mirror and clenched his jaw. Unfazed by the near-accident, Lauren and Zane had abandoned any decorum and were now sucking face. Still on his lap, she had her arms around that thick neck, pulling an eager mouth down to hers. It was a long, warm, passionate kiss, the kind that doesn't seem like it's going to end. Corey watched with mixed emotions, envying the electricity in their embrace. While it was beyond erotic to watch his wife make out, it was the first time seeing it in person with someone so close to the family. This was his best friend, for God's sake! As such, his heart began to pound as things heated up, their bodies more animated, lips mashed together, as they appeared to be seeking some pleasure not yet attainable. To say the least, it became increasingly difficult to stay on the road.

Lauren was acutely aware of Corey's front-seat voyeurism, sneaking peeks when traffic allowed. With each passing mile, she upped the knavery, kissing the biker's ears, neck, and shoulders. Zane responded by tugging at the bottom of the sweater and snaking a hand beneath, eventually finding her soft breasts which fit so nicely in his calloused mitt. Low, soft cries could be heard up front over the latest soft rock tune, once again drawing the captivated driver's attention to the rearview. His wife had now moved to kneel alongside Picardo's beefy body, one hand on a broad shoulder, the other foraging for something below, just out of the mirror's reach. Discretely, Corey lowered the radio's volume, hoping to eavesdrop on the husky chatter behind him. It did not disappoint.