Ascending Lauren Ch. 26

Or a trainwreck.  

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Down the hallway in 23m, Lauren shrugged off her old outfit and pulled the shiny silver metallic halter over her head. The top felt sleek and stylish against her skin as she adjusted the thin spaghetti straps over her shoulders, pulling them tighter to get a better fit. She smoothed out the fabric around her small breasts, making sure they were tucked in neatly behind the draped cowl neck. The areolae were visible through the blouse, with dark outlines clearly discernible.

Next, she slipped into a red thong and carefully pulled it up over her calves and thighs, feeling it stretch and tighten within the confines of her butt crack. After ensuring the waistband rested securely on the top of her pelvic bone, the sultry temptress settled down at a makeshift vanity and opened the center drawer. Inside lay a small vial, a metal straw, and an ornate mirror. She smiled with delight at the sight. Unwilling to risk bringing coke through TSA, Lauren had left behind what little she had remaining from Stretch Maddison's "gift." Maybe it was time to pay him another visit. A blow for some blow. It wasn't as if she was addicted or anything, only using the drug as a pick-me-up and to escape from her chaotic existence. 

Right?

But why keep it from Corey? It wasn't like he was opposed to recreational drugs or anything. 

Lauren carefully tapped two lines of white powder onto the mirror and placed one end of the straw into a nostril and inhaled, then repeated for the other. Her nose wiggled several times and her eyes blinked repeatedly. Feeling satisfied, she opened her makeup kit.

If one thing was clear, the tone had to be set with Corey from the beginning. After all, it was he who had turned her into a slut, and now he had to live with the consequences.

And what were those exactly? The trysts and drugs her husband knew about...or the ones he didn't? Were the latter simply sexual exhaust, a consequence he would have to accept? One where she wouldn't always tell him everything? Hadn't he just said he was aroused at her going behind his back? Yes, actually.

Lauren carefully traced the contours of her face, using jet-black eyeliner that perfectly matched her hair. By dragging the pencil along her lash line, she created thick and intense eyelashes that gave her eyes a sultry and seductive look. Next, she applied a vibrant and alluring shade of crimson to her lips, giving them a glossy finish that made them look luscious and irresistible. Finally, she added a little blush to highlight her cheeks. Wiping her nose again, she admired the trampish look that she preferred these days, at least away from work. Let's face it, she no longer dressed to impress just her husband; Lauren Miller dressed to impress everyone else now - and it all screamed "fuck me."

Corey would need to learn that the net she cast these days was not for him alone.

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Back in their apartment, the graying Des Moines transplant appeared to be examining his saggy nutsack when his wife suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"Kind of hard to find, isn't it?" she teased, catching him off guard, holding up a hand indicating a small space between her thumb and forefinger.

Corey's deer-in-the-headlights expression was priceless. His gaping mouth struggled to form a coherent response.

"It's...it's bigger than that."

"If you say so."

Lauren twirled, spreading her arms to showcase her entire outfit. "What do you think? I went for roadhouse slutty."

"Jesus, babe," Corey's eyes darted across her body, taking in the sight. "You look great."

She wasn't just slutty; she looked like she had just arrived from Sodom and Gomorrah. The low-rise blue jeans he picked out for her hung low on her hips, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her pelvic bone and the top of her ass crack. Above it, the winged "EZ" tattoo was easily visible to anyone looking at her butt. And he knew there would be plenty of guys doing just that. The top of a red thong peeked out, rising in the back to a small lacy triangle above the denim. From there, it branched out to two small bands encircling her waist, leading to a hidden V in front behind a button-down fly. The sexy lingerie wasn't just underwear, it was part of the look. Some of the top buttons of her jeans were undone, as if to get a head start, and threatened to expose the colorful fox-in-tail tattoo cunningly inked just above her pussy. Her makeup, too, was as striking as her outfit. A pornstar look for sure.

Corey's flaccid two inches began to stir, growing slightly. He tried to hide it behind a towel, but it was a futile effort. The sight of her in that tiny, shiny metallic halter top was too much. As she spun around, the revealing design showed her entire back, smooth and inviting. Thin spaghetti straps held a deep plunging cowl neck in place, naturally drawing the gaze towards her cleavage, modest as it may be.

"Very eighties," he croaked, his erection causing him embarrassment. Although he believed she had used questionable judgment in getting the tattoos, they were admittedly quite hot, adding to her trampy persona.

Smiling, Lauren glanced down at his pink appendage. "Hmm. Looks like I have your attention. Good."

Stepping closer, careful not to let any water droplets from his naked torso touch her, she placed a hand on the back of his neck, teasingly brushing her nose against his.

"I'm so glad you're finally here. Don't ever leave me," she whispered.

Corey closed his eyes, drinking in the intoxicating scent of her perfume. "Never."

Her free hand wrapped around his now hard member. "Never ever?"

"No," Corey stammered.

Her delicate fingers began to stroke his cock as she purred in his ear, her warm breath sending shivers down his spine.

"Even when I step out on you? Even when I fuck other men?"

"N-n-no," he managed to respond.

"Because I will, you know...fuck other guys. I'm the slut you never knew you married."

Lauren's hand moved faster over his dick, picking up the pace. She loved the feeling of being in control and knew that her husband was completely at her mercy. Lowering her head, she sucked on one of his nipples, then the other. Corey moaned loudly, his head tilting back in pleasure. He couldn't believe how much control she had over him and was loving every minute of it. He closed his eyes tight as he felt himself getting close. Loose skin on his body trembled, and they both knew he was about to blow.

But it wasn't meant to be.

Just as suddenly as she had appeared, Lauren removed her hand from his cock and turned away, a wicked smile forming on her lips.

"Sorry, Twisty," she said, her voice dripping with sadistic satisfaction, fingers trailing slowly down Corey's chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps. She knew that each touch sent torturous electricity through his body, and as she leaned in, her hot breath grazed his ear. "Now that you're here, that cuck in you is going to have to learn some patience. I decide when you cum, capeesh?"

Corey's body quivered as he looked longingly into Lauren's eyes. He couldn't fault her; after all, he was the one who had asked for this. Nodding, he knew that continuing down this path was not for the faint of heart. It was to be craved; it was to be embraced.

It was to be feared.

"Yeah...capeesh."

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The ride-share pulled into the packed gravel parking lot of the Stetson Saloon, billed as Miami's newest honky-tonk hotspot. Neon signs glowed on the outside of the weathered wooden façade, advertising cold beers and live music. As the pair entered, Corey purposely hung back, savoring the sight of Lauren's well-rounded ass swaying in her tight denim jeans. The bar's diffused lighting lit her bare backside, highlighting the shadows of her shoulder blades and the red satin thong peeking out over the tops of her butt cheeks. As predicted, the ~EZ~ tat was clearly visible.

Well aware that her husband wasn't the only one whose gaze was lingering, Lauren swayed her hips seductively as she walked towards a row of tables near the bar. Corey's heart pounded in his chest as he observed one head after another turn with hungry glances. Luckily, another couple was just leaving and waved them over to claim the seats before some millennial punks could swoop in.

Minutes later, a flight of whiskey was sitting in front of the two and glasses were clinking.

"To us," Lauren smiled genuinely, looking him in the eye. "And our new home."

"To us," Corey replied, beaming, "and a carefree life in sunny Florida."

With modern country and western playing in the background, the long-married duo talked about the next steps in their lives. Sure, luxury high-rise living was convenient and had its advantages, but writing that check every month without building equity was hard to do. Both wanted to stick to the plan and buy a house somewhere in the suburbs. Maybe High Pines or Ponce-Davis? It wasn't something they needed to rush into. Lauren's lease at the Majestic Summit wasn't up until June, and they could easily extend it another six months to a year, so there was no hurry, especially with all the changes in their careers. With Corey starting a new job and Lauren's promotion not more than a month away, there would be no time to look for property any time soon.

"You've been talking a lot with Dale," she said, finishing off her second whiskey and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. "Ready for the first big day Monday?"

Corey tossed back the last few drops in his glass and picked up the third snifter.

"Yeah, lots to do next week. Dale's taking me to a buddy of his who owns a dealership to pick out a company car."

"Oh, that's right! What kind are you going to get?"

"I dunno. I've always had a truck."

"Um, you might want to rethink that. No way a truck fits in the apartment garage."

"Fair point. Maybe something with good gas mileage. I will be traveling a bit. A Prius?"

Lauren started to scrunch up her nose at the idea when the house band suddenly picked up the tempo with some good foot-stomping music. Seemingly out of nowhere, dozens of people appeared on the dance floor from every corner of the room and lined up.

"Let's go!" she exclaimed, grabbing her husband's hand and leading him towards the sea of others twirling and hopping. Corey played along, a little sheepishly at first, but soon got into the rhythm of things. With a silly grin on his face, he let her guide him through the first leg slapping, line shifting, and foot pivoting moves until he seemed comfortable to hold his own.

Although Corey was a rocker at heart, he had to admit that he was actually having fun there at the roadhouse with his girl by his side and no distractions. The two laughed out loud as they spun and stomped, marveling at the more experienced dancers and clucking at their own mistakes. It was a special moment for Corey, who had missed the camaraderie of his soulmate. Several times he stopped and gathered her into his arms, ending each with a stirring kiss.

After several songs, Lauren excused herself to the restroom and Corey headed back to their table, feeling relieved to have a moment of respite. It was becoming more challenging to keep up with a woman who was almost thirteen years younger and looked years less than that. Sipping on his third glass of whiskey, he scanned the crowd. Mostly urban cowboys, they were white collar by day and dusty boots at night. He half-expected to see Alex Cartwright there.  That guy was the real deal. These then? Not so much. Amused at the wannabe antics, he ordered two more flights.

As the waitress walked away with the order, Corey noticed his wife navigating around other patrons while returning to the table. She was a vision of hotness, exuding sheer sex appeal. Her tiny braless breasts jiggled freely with each step as she walked towards him, barely covered by the draping halter that accentuated firm and tanned abs. Her hips rolled from side to side as she moved, the exposed thong clearly glistening in the DJ's rotating and blinking lights. She had almost made it through the gauntlet of turning heads when a couple of those fake cowpokes stopped her and struck up a conversation.

Corey rolled his eyes. The men were dressed in standard rustic wear, one with a cowboy hat, both with boots. Rugged in a seventy's western movie kind of way. Of course, they were. It wasn't a creepy thing, just two gutsy guys wanting to meet the pretty lady they'd seen earlier on the dance floor. He could see their smiles and detected the flirting from twenty feet away. Lauren didn't do anything to discourage it either, twirling a piece of her hair in her hands, laughing at whatever clever lines they were coming up with. Several times they had her face away from them while they stared at her ass; undoubtedly asking about the ~EZ~ tattoo. Corey thought about going over and rescuing her, but there was no indication she wanted to be. Nor, quite frankly, did he necessarily want to.

Was this how it was going to be from now on? Lauren 3.0 in the wild? He seemed to get the feeling that these kinds of encounters were commonplace. In the supermarket, restaurants, at work, not to say anything about bars. Just how many guys had hit on her since she had taken to spicing up her wardrobe and propping up her confidence? Dozens? Hundreds? How many had bedded her? What kind of unseemly things had she done down here that he didn't know about? Had she actually cheated on him - kissing but not telling? Either physically or emotionally? The idea awakened his groin, the same one that had been denied just hours before. How sick is that? It was one thing for him to fantasize about her to fucking others in the open, but to eroticize his wife carrying on behind his back?

Do I really get off on that? 

Just as his fetish began conjuring up all sorts of fantastical images, Lauren hugged both strangers and returned to her seat, all smiles.

"Yee haw," Corey muttered under his breath.

"Hush," she admonished him with a wry grin. "They're nice."

"I'm sure they are," he replied sarcastically.

"They're kind of hot too."

The tingle below his waist spread like heat through his mid-section.

"So are you."

Lauren's dimples came out. She reached over and took one of his hands in both of hers, her thumb caressing his. "That's sweet."

They looked at each other lovingly for the longest time, the music thumping in the background. Both felt it. The same connection that tugged at the heartstrings when they first met at a mutual friend's wedding, fused with the uncertainty and vulnerability of their relationship today. Finally, her eyes wandered over to the two who had chatted her up.

"They're still hot though."

Corey followed his wife's gaze to the men. Having moved on, they were now at the bar, knocking back craft beer with two bleached blondes. Although he detested dancing, Corey stood, emboldened by the whiskey.

"Shall we, Mrs. Miller?"

Lauren cocked her head in mock wonderment. "I'd love to, Mr. Miller."

Hand in hand, they walked to the dance floor, though Corey felt as though he floated, so elated that this beautiful woman was by his side. He knew strangers found her enticing, that was a given. But to still be as excited about someone after decades of marriage as he was the day they wed, that was truly special. They began dancing, and he followed her lead, finding rhythm as they glided amongst the other dancers. The first number was a catchy country rocker, giving way to one conducive to a two-step. Corey was lost here, but Lauren guided him the best she good.

"Quick, quick, slow...quick, quick, slow."

While she was teaching him the basic dance moves, her sparkling eyes reminded him of why he fell in love with her in the first place. She demonstrated great calmness and patience while instructing his footwork. Over the years, she had endured his passion for fishing, sports, and live music, as he spent excessive amounts on tackle and concert tickets. She tolerated things that would test even the most loving of wives, such as crashing the truck - not once, but twice, frequently losing large sums of money they couldn't afford in poker games and coming home drunk. Through it all, she remained his constant companion. If Lauren considered him her rock, then she was his anchor.

By the third song, Corey was thoroughly enjoying himself. He dipped and swung Lauren around, not caring what others might think of his awkwardness. As the song ended, they shared a kiss and embraced, deciding to return to their table to finish their drinks. Amid the pulsating speakers, Corey led the way, cutting a path through the growing crowd of patrons. At one point, he felt Lauren's hand slip from his grasp but thought nothing of it, as she often tucked herself behind him to maneuver more easily through large groups. When he reached the table, he pulled out a chair for her, but she wasn't there.

"Lauren?" he uttered with a sense of concern.

Scanning the room, he saw that one of the two pseudo-cowboys had pulled Lauren aside and they were already deep in conversation, with their heads close together. As the music blared, they talked cheek to cheek-in order to hear each other. Corey watched from behind the empty chair as his radiant wife once again flirted, hands on his broad shoulders, listening intently to every word. It was an uneasy reminder that things would be different here, their lives in Des Moines forever ditched for a new reality.

As if to underline that thought, both Lauren and the knockoff suddenly looked Corey's way, smirking. Roy Rogers stared the older man down condescendingly and she giggled, likely corroborating an assumption. Finally, she held up an index finger, indicating she'd be back in a minute. Shaking his head in sufferance, Corey sat down and grabbed a snifter. Taking a drink, he closed his eyes and waited for the burn, then the aftertaste. When they opened, Lauren was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the cowboy. They weren't on the dance floor, nor were they at any portion of the bar he could see.

Another vanishing act from Lauren 3.0

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Outside, the Cowboy pushed the black-haired flirt against a dirty brick wall and pressed her body against a grimy iron beam. They were in an alleyway, just to the right of the bar's kitchen door. The area flickered with dusk to dawn lights, casting eerie shadows on the worn-out fire escapes. Their hands roamed quickly over each other's bodies, hungry lips smacking, tongues dancing as a rough beard brushed against her soft skin.

"Whoa, slow down there, Hoss," Lauren patted the man on his chest, noting they were just mere feet from a bustling work area. Nearby, several workers from other establishments sharing the alley milled about on break.

"Lots of eyes back here."

"So what? Let's do this before your husband misses you."

"I'm sure he already has."

Cowboy frowned. This one might need some priming. Reaching into his pocket, his hand came back with a small vial, its white contents shimmering under the dim glow of the vapor lights. "Maybe this will help take the edge off, huh?"

Lauren's eyes lit up and she nodded knowingly. The man flattened out one of her hands and deftly tapped a small amount of the powdery substance into a long, painted nail. Lifting it to a nostril, she took the bump. Then another. She shut her eyes and scrunched up her nose, pinching and inhaling again. The rush hit hard as the aroma of sizzling meat and spices from surrounding restaurants seemed to come alive.

As her eyes fluttered open again, Lauren's gaze locked onto Cowboy's. Deep within, he could see a burning ember sparking. Without breaking eye contact, the sexy vixen slid to her haunches, letting her hands trace the denim until she found the hard outline of his cock straining against it. In two shakes, the man's belt came undone with a satisfying clink, and then his jeans. Hooking her fingers into the waistband, she pulled them and his briefs down in one smooth motion. The fabric initially got hung up on his hips before finally giving way. As his pants and briefs slid down his thighs, the fake cowpoke's cock sprang free, throbbing. A bead of precum glistened at the tip, teetering on the edge before flicking off, destination unknown.