Ascending Lauren Ch. 22

This narrative is part of a multi-part story that explores the sexual exploits of a Midwestern couple who wanted a change in locale, but are experiencing much, much more.

Warning: subject matter includes hotwife/cuckold/group sex topics. This story is tagged as such, so if you do not care for these types of tales, move on. You are your only enemy if you continue reading.

Those that do choose to continue, please know reading previous chapters will help you better understand the characters and their journey.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Anything depicted has no relation to past or current people and events. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18.

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Tuesday, February 13th. Nine days to go.

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Corey Miller looked out over his expansive front lawn from the warmth of his study and took a sip of hot coffee. From there he could see the widespread morning frost and the metal For Sale sign reflecting the morning sun.

Open House Sunday

Noon - 2:00

Although he was, of course, excited to finally begin a new life in Florida with Lauren, the longtime Iowan had to admit selling the house that held so many memories brought about myriad mixed emotions. Birthdays and Christmases. Shed tears and happy laughs. Now, the home that had hosted all those things, the things that make life worth living, was soon to belong to another family where they too could begin making their own.

Would that happy couple find themselves beset by the same phycological fetishes and almost supernatural fervor that seemed to consume the Miller's life these days? Would the husband develop a burning desire to see his wife in the arms of other men? Would the wife acquiesce, only to find her own body longing for pleasures of the flesh, for the joy of sex that had been so mechanical and lackluster these past few years? Ironically, it was these types of thoughts that often drove him to the privacy of the toilet to masturbate. But now was not one of those times.

"The eggs will be done in a sec. More coffee?"

Returning to the kitchen, Corey took a seat at the wooden table as Lauren approached with a coffee pot in hand. Her expression was...apprehensive. Refilling his cup, she returned to the stove and slid three over-easies from a no-stick pan onto a plate.

More and more, things just seemed so surreal. Here was his wife of twenty-eight years, padding around in sweats, hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and freshly scrubbed face making breakfast for her doting husband. With the traffic report on the small portable TV and sunshine streaming in, it could have been like a thousand other mornings in their lives; a regular Norman Rockwell painting.

But it wasn't.

Lauren hadn't spent the previous evening at the school board or coaching softball. She wasn't playing pickleball or fighting the lines at the new mega-supermarket. Instead, the beautiful raven-haired forty-eight-year-old had spent it teasing guys he counted amongst his best of friends, and eventually fucked one of them. For the third time.

A whore by any other name. 

Really? Did the culpability lie with her? Or what she had become? Had he not driven her libido to the point of ignition, stoked it with pillow talk and drunken fantasies? Asked her to dress sexier and flirt with others? Indeed, he had. Had he surfaced her suppressed desire to sell herself? No. Had he led her into an alley for a gangbang? No, but there was that pool hall incident.

Had he asked her to date other men?

Most definitely, yes. 

Despite that idyllic breakfast morning scene and best efforts to maintain a semblance of normalcy, the stoic façade had begun to crack as more and more people became aware of their evolving marriage. That her buddies in Miami knew was a given. Quite frankly, all they'd ever known was Lauren the hotwife. But now Zane's coworkers back here in Des Moines knew and with her little escapade last night, longtime friends knew as well. Who they would tell was anyone's guess.

While the bacon sizzled on the griddle, Corey pretended to be lost in his phone, engrossed in the day's headlines. He wanted nothing more than to make a quick exit and go to work unscathed. Discussing last night was something he would prefer to avoid, and so far, so good. It was his love-hate relationship with the fetish that had driven him to spy on her once again and now there were sure to be consequences. After a somewhat disturbing and muddled threesome at Zane Picardo's home, all three had fallen asleep with Lauren in the middle. As the sun rose that morning, the married couple had woken and left quietly, each driving their own vehicle back home. That had been two hours ago and since then, neither had spoken a word of the encounter. Maybe it was a reluctance to discuss, or maybe they were just tired. Whatever the reason, the silence was about to end.

Click.

Lauren set down Corey's breakfast plate and switched off the TV. When someone does that, it's never a good sign.

"We need to talk," she eyed him pensively.

Corey stopped short of stuffing a piece of bacon into his mouth. Shit.

"You cannot keep stalking me."

Biting off a piece of the crispy pork, he chewed slowly and returned the rest to the dish. "You're my wife. I like to know you are okay."

"That doesn't give you a right to spy on me. You knew where I was going, and it wasn't exactly River Bend. And this isn't the first time. There was my evening with Steve. Then the fraternity house, now Zane's."

Corey took a second bite, thought about that, then swallowed. "Well, for one, if I remember correctly, the lease has my name on it. So, when I caught you with Steve, it wasn't like I was trespassing. Second, you wanted me to find you in the fraternity. Now, last night? Yeah, maybe I pushed it. But I just had to see what was so damn important that you'd give up one of our last two nights together. But that should have been obvious, right? No mystery there. Big dick, small dick."

Lauren folded her arms and gazed out the window. He wasn't wrong. She'd smelled the scent of cock and followed it across town, leaving him in the dust. In hindsight, it wasn't something to be proud of and she could see his point. Still, if they were to continue their games in Miami, there had to be some ground rules. While she didn't like being apart from her husband all the time, not having to account for her whereabouts every day after thirty years provided a certain freedom that was going to be hard to forfeit again. Lauren was just now getting used to going out whenever she pleased, with whomever she pleased. And if they were going to continue the lifestyle - the course Corey himself had put them on - he was going to have to give her some space. Perhaps it was best to take a different approach.

"So, you like stalking me, huh?"

Corey looked up at her as he felt a foot slowly creeping up his calf. Her tone had softened and both eyes were transfixed on his.

"I told you I wasn't stalk-eeen...oh."

Another foot had joined in and found the sixty-one-year-old's crotch.

"If this is going to work, you'll need to ease up on the surveillance, okay? I know you like to watch, and I promise to feed your needs, but not all guys like an audience. And there are plenty I want to fuck."

A few toes danced on the growing tent in Corey's work khakis. "There are?" he wheezed, lost in the moment.

"Don't play stupid, Mister, you've seen what's in Miami."

"I know, but..."

Quite unexpectedly, Lauren slid off her chair and disappeared under the table. The next thing he knew, frisky hands had replaced the feet.

"Do we have an agreement?"

"Wha...what's that?"

"No more spying. I'll let you know when it's okay to lean in."

ZIPPPPPPP

"But what if...?"

A pair of lips engulfed his semi-erect six inches, followed by a tongue that traveled the length of its underbelly.

"No buts. Do we have a deal?" she asked again with the seriousness of a tough negotiator. Suddenly the whole of his penis was in her mouth.

Corey slumped in his chair; the breakfast food forgotten. "Yessssssss."

"Eye fawwwht so..." Lauren muttered as she crossed the i and dotted the t. Within two minutes the beleaguered husband shuddered, eyes rolling back in his head as he ejaculated down her throat. No way was she mopping the floor yet again.

The last drop swallowed, the sultry wife crawled out from under the table and dusted off her hands.

"Are you going out again tonight?" Corey zipped up, looking glum, as if he already knew the answer. "With him?"

"No," she shook her head, handing over a fully ladened lunch pail. "Don't you remember, silly? Tomorrow's Valentine's Day. My flight's in the morning, so this evening, we celebrate!"

Shit, that's right. Of all holidays for her to be leaving on.

"So, what do you want to do?"

"I was thinking of making that lasagna you like and staying in. Just you and me. How's that sound?"

Corey's heart nearly burst when he heard that. It was what he was hoping for.

"Perfect," he gushed with a wide smile that stayed on his face all the way to work.

"Then I'll see you later, alligator," Lauren replied cheerfully as she began doing dishes, seeming every bit like the scout leader and bingo caller she'd been for years. In fact, the June Cleaver look was only dashed once as she paused to wipe a bit of sticky white cum off her chin with a bent elbow.

That stuff can get everywhere!

+++++

"Charlie, can you grab me another stack of bands, please?" the overworked Randy Sandy's door girl at the entrance pleaded into her headset. Looping the last iridescent piece of paper around a young customer's wrist, ensuring the sticky ends held, she nodded for him to go through. The pretty Latino of Cuban descent laughed when the young man joined his waiting buddies with a hoop and a holler. It was nice to see people having a good time. Plus it gave her a chance to be off her feet.

"On it," came the youthful crackling response as the greeter smiled weakly at the ten or so other patrons waiting impatiently to get inside. All were eager to spend their money on nudity and overpriced watered-down drinks.

Within minutes, Charlie Weber had once again saved the day, showing up with two large bundles of bands.

"Busy for a Tuesday," the young man remarked as the girl sighed with relief. Typically, they didn't go through so many.

"Fleet's in, I suppose," she posited, wrapping another wrist as the twenty-dollar cover was paid.

"Charlie," the floor manager squawked in the networked Bluetooth system, "can you help Rita with the reader on station four? It's not taking swipes."

The twenty-one-year-old acknowledged the request and scampered off to the middle of the showroom, where the main bar and runway were. Such was the life of a strip club runner, scurrying here and there, helping where needed. Any given night would find him taking kitchen deliveries and inventory, gathering laundry from the talent, troubleshooting electronics, rearranging tables for bachelor parties, and setting up VIP rooms. The work was tough, but he was learning a lot about the business. And it kept him close to his forever crush, Chloe Ceallaigh, aka Autumn Breeze. Sometimes too close.

As Charlie replaced the faulty card reader and waited for the terminal to reboot, he was able to take a breath and looked around the room. Several of the talent were working the crowd for tips in various stages of dress with the real goal of selling private dances. It wasn't long before his eyes landed on a cute redhead cheerfully chatting up a group of middle-aged men. Chloe was quite busty, and wearing only a G-string did nothing to help the guys keep their focus on her eyes. Not that the rest of her wasn't beautiful, but her cantaloupe-sized breasts, still only twenty years old, sat high on her chest. Definitely a pair to behold. Those working in a gentleman's club, however, tended to get desensitized to nudity over time. In fact, Charlie no longer got chubs at the dancing or knowing what went on behind closed doors, the latter being something employees were strictly forbidden to watch or participate in. For many, it truly was just another day at the office. Except when it came to Chloe. While most men lusted after her body, it was the stripper's mind that he found most attractive. A shrewd businesswoman even at a tender age, she planned to use her God-given talents to retire by age thirty. By then, she figured, there would be diminishing returns on her assets. So why not cash in now?

Punching a passcode into the touch screen and nodding to the bartender that she was back in business, he turned to the table Chloe had been at just seconds ago, only to see her leading one of the bigger customers by hand to a VIP room in a narrow corridor off to the side. Just as she ducked behind a curtain guarded by a huge man with Security emblazoned on a yellow t-shirt, the roommates' eyes met. With a barely perceptible smile, Autumn Breeze disappeared, ready to make another guy's day.

His roommate.

Would they ever be more? Charlie mused. Could they ever be more? To be honest, it was difficult seeing her strip for men who didn't give two shits if she had a brain or not, watching them ogle her nubile assets night after night. And the lucky ones could afford a lap dance and perhaps something extra. The something he longed to do. He had decided a long time ago that things would be different if the pendulum ever did swing his way. He'd make it about her, not him, while making love to that wonderous mind as well as her luscious body.

"Charlie, can you help Jada? She's having a wardrobe malfunction and all the girls are busy."

"Be right there," the young man left the bar and headed towards the dressing room.

The dancers were always having issues with their outfits, most of them were so skimpy the material often broke and had to be mended on the fly. They didn't mind the young man fluttering around, even if it meant being in their space. He was very helpful, and after all, nude was nude, whether it be on stage or back. Plus, they all knew he only had eyes for one girl in the troupe.

Jada was fussing up a storm when Charlie got there but was able to calm her down, using a handy safety pin and some thread. All was good just as her name was announced to the waiting crowd, and she left the boy with a flirty 'thank you' and the imprint of lipstick lips on his cheek.

Never a dull moment, the kid grinned, exiting backstage and stepping onto the podium which housed the DJ booth. He like the vantage point because from there he could survey the entire room, scanning for any employee in need of help, which could range from cleaning up a spill to alerting security of a rowdy customer. Charlie had just exchanged small talk with deejay Em Cee Topper when the manager ordered the runner to VIP room six to change a flickering light.

"Probably a red twenty-watter. Should be two boxes in supply. Also, check the ceiling fan is working too, please. It's about shot."

Grabbing a bulb and a small step ladder from the closet, Charlie made his way across the floor to the VIP hallway, nodding pleasantly to the guard as he parted the curtain. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dim blue light while walking past the individual rooms. This is where the girls made the big bucks, and it was of the utmost importance that they not be disturbed. Typically, the maintenance crew would care for this during off hours, but bulbs always went out during inopportune times. There were eight rooms, with six being near the back of the corridor. Although he didn't know which one - the girls usually just took what was open at the time - that didn't make it any easier knowing his Chloe was in one. Coming to a door with a simple black-on-white number 6 plaque attached to the frame, the boy sighed and went in. On the wall were four lights that softly bathed a futon and side table in a deep red glow. After replacing the flickering one, he flipped the switch on the fan several times before it started to rotate. Scraping noises rattled the ceiling as worn bearings showed signs of disintegration. Yep, time for a new one.

Finished, Charlie reentered the corridor and stood quietly. His boss would have surely yelled at him for not immediately leaving. But Chloe was just a few feet away, on the other side of one of those doors, doing what she gets paid to do. Pleasuring men for profit. His crotch twitched at the thought.

Her body hovering over a stranger's, gyrating to songs that they paid handsomely for.

Hands permitted to lightly touch fleshy hips as her bare nethers moistened, stopping just above tented pants. 

Christ, why did this excite him? He should be jealous and green with envy.

And he WAS. But it wasn't these alone; more like a mixture of weird ass feelings. Just like while watching her with the porn star, the whole idea was...well...fascinating. Okay, it was hot, so what? But why? Why did he get aroused at these things?

Men ogling her while dancing.

Staring at her tits and ass, wondering what it would be like to be with her.

It didn't make sense, but here he was, in the middle of a dark hall getting a hard-on, imagining what was going on behind...

Almost as if on cue, a door to one of the rooms opened, allowing red light from within to mix with the muted blue of the corridor. Out came Chloe with the same rotund client in tow, a bottle of water in her hands. She was swishing the cool liquid around in her mouth. The friends' eyes met briefly, acknowledging the other's presence. Charlie picked up the ladder and acted nonchalantly like he'd just been passing by rather than daydreaming. Keeping things professional, the redhead politely escorted the man back to his buddies and asked if anyone else wanted to have fun. When her roommate walked near the table, she pulled him aside and whispered.

"The promos from the film are done and ready to be reviewed."

"Um...okay?"

"They can't use them without me first approving. Jason makes sure he has that written into all contracts."

Charlie looked around the showroom and feigned disinterest. The prospect of reliving that day on the set was appealing but didn't want to show his hand. "So?"

The dancer fixed him with expectant puppy dog eyes. "They're online so we can do it together later at home. The shots are geared for guys, so I'd really like a guy's opinion."

Never in a million years would the young man ever say no to that face.

"Well, then, you're cooking and we're smoking your weed tonight," Charlie smiled carting off the ladder. "Bong, no skins."

+++++

Corey returned home that evening to find one-half of the garage full of packing boxes. Lauren had spent her day separating items they themselves were going to move. The current plan was to leave everything in place until the house sold, then rent a U-Haul. They'd learned over the years that certain things should not be entrusted to movers. What that meant, however, was that he had to leave his truck in the driveway. It didn't matter; he was planning on selling it anyway.

Later that night, after two helpings of her famous lasagna, they settled onto a two-person wooden glider on the deck, snuggling under an old soccer blanket. The cool Iowan night was brisk but tolerable, and the sky was clear, providing a view of the stars.