Benefits with Friends

The party looked exciting enough, everyone was well dressed and charming and laughing and trading stories, but underneath it was a work party. A shiny sugar coating over a rather dry chocolate powder interior.

Andre was the reason they came. Why they had to come. Some parties can be weaseled out of, but not this one. Marta was his +1. And a fabulous +1 at that. So many of these events seem to happen in the winter, around the holidays. And the cold. Someone at the office had the bright idea to host an event in September so everyone was not crowded into the living room and kitchen. The patio was the place to be tonight. The day had been downright hot & humid. It was finally cooling.

Andre dressed like a man in business every day at the office, but tonight he found a way to turn up the wick a bit brighter. A matte black suit, matte black shirt and a Hey Look At Me tangerine tie. He'd been in Belize just a week ago and sported an envious tan. His salt and pepper hair reminded him he wasn't in his 30s anymore.

Marta was walking, Teutonic hotness. Austrian by birth and Italian style. Black pumps. A black pencil skirt that hugged her hips exactly right, an eggshell silk tank, quietly worn with no bra, and a short black coat that while it had buttons, could just clasp across her breasts. Just. Crisp golden waves of hair came just down to her luscious lips. Great look for nights out. And it stayed out of way when she was leaning over blowing her man's mind. Among other things. Marta was past her "pretend to be confident" 20s and entered her "fuck it, I'll do what I want" mid-30s.

Before coming they had joked about bringing home a girl. Risky when business is involved. Whoever was their next three-way adventure, she wasn't here tonight. Smiling, chatting, laughing at stories that weren't that funny, by 11:15 the night had worn its welcome. It was time to go. They said goodbyes to the right executives and right spouses and finally made their escape.

As they walked past the two valets and down the gracious stairs in front of the house... house? Or is this a manor?- they passed row after row of black German sedans or bronze British SUVs. Each more expensive than the next. A red Ferrari here. A silver Porsche there. All the newest, highest trim models. They got just outside the broadcast of light from the nearest ornate lamp post and Andre stopped short.

"Excuse me," he said. Marta looked at him, wondering if he had forgotten something inside.

"Your jacket, if you would." She blinked at him twice, then a raised golden eyebrow, she pulled off her jacket and set it on his waiting arm.

"Your top, please." The please was a period. Not a question mark. She looked back at the house, kind of checking the coast was clear and kind of wishing it wasn't. Then with a wily smirk, she slid the silk up over her breasts and slipped the top completely off over her head. Sorting it for a moment and lightly stringing it by the straps, hung it on his waiting fingers. He opened her coat for her to slip back on which she did. Exactly as he had hoped, it didn't quite cover her nipples. Just exposed. Just. She was happy with the outcome. He was thrilled.

They started the longer walk down the ambling driveway of cars parked single-file along either side. Then they came to Andre's car. It was German. And it was black. It wasn't like the others. It was customized by a Miami Vice drug kingpin wannabe back in the 80s. Or perhaps a real kingpin? Who knows, but with time, connotations soften and the car had retired from its life of crime. Now it was just a stunning, slightly menacing classic. A Mercedes coupe, low, wide and very very long. And was murdered out. Black paint, black bumpers, black grille, black trim, black tint, black wheels. The wheels were twice as wide as when the car was newly built. Huge custom fenders broadened the car by at least a foot to keep it all contained. A bit like Marta's jacket was trying and failing to do so. They both stepped to the passenger door and he chirped the authentic 1980s car alarm, opening her door.

"Your jacket," he said again. She removed it more eagerly and handed it to him. She was stunning any time, but topless in a skirt and heels in the moonlight, she was simply too much.

"Iz thees vot you hod een mind?" she asked as she put her hands on her hips and swayed? Eyes gleaming. Impossibly soft lips, smiling wide. She had mostly extinguished her Austrian accent after so many years abroad, but she could brighten it when she wanted to feel more exotic. This was one of those times.

"And please lift your skirt." She was excited to comply and knew what was coming. This was dangerous indeed. "Please pull your panties to your knees," he said without breaking eye contact with her. She did both on command.

"Please lower your skirt back down and have a seat." She was confused now.

"You don't intend to bend me over and make me scream for your boss?"

"No I do not, but I wouldn't call this a risk-free exercise. Enjoy yourself." Marta was still off kilter, but game for about anything at this point. Also not breaking eye contact, she slid backward into the seat, making sure to lean forward a bit, her breasts hung just so. Andre didn't look at them, didn't take the bait. His eyes were still locked on hers. Then she gingerly lifted both feet and swiveled into the car. As she leaned into the seat, she felt the cool leather all the way up her back. That was a unique feeling. Andre closed the door and walked to the trunk. He opened it, placed her jacket and silk top inside and gently lowered the lid. Mercedes engineers decided slamming a trunk was so uncivilized, a motor gently purred, sucking the trunk lid shut the final inch and then a clasping sound of the latch. And with that sound, Marta's access to her modesty was literally locked away. Intoxicating. She sat on a sumptuous, spotless white leather seat, exposed from the waist up, nipples thick and hard and ready for... something... and her lacy and now very wet-sticky thong between her knees. The anticipation of the walk had had Andre's desired effect in regards to the panties. Andre opened his door and slid in beside her. He reached over and kissed her collarbone, sliding his hand down her thigh, tangling his finger in her thong and smearing its wet goodness on her skin. She held her breath. His kisses traced farther up her neck and his hand gently motioned around her breast. He stopped his kisses so he could see how precisely he touched her, circling his finger tip around her areola, but careful not to touch her nipple. She was dying for him to touch her that way. Her back stiffened, she tried to sway her body this way and that to chase his finger and get *some* relief. Some begging sensation that her body needed fulfilled right now. Yet when she got too close he would pull his finger away. Andre was so skilled with nipples. Marta knew hers obeyed him, and she had seen other women respond to him the same way. Andre was simply a master at nipples.

"You're evil," she gasped. "Just evil."

"You like me that way."

"Yes I do."

He pulled away from her and started the car. The potent engine roared to life and settled into a deep rumble. He lowered the deep tinted windows three quarters of the way down. They then had to drive up the driveway toward the house to leave. Now she understood the risk.

"How long have you been planning this?" Marta asked.

"This part? Only since we walked down those steps," Andre said as they neared the house. Many more guests were now outside herding to their cars. Andre topped the hill, spun around the roundabout drive and passed the stairs. At least a dozen people were headed down. They were on Marta's side of the car. She at once wanted to freeze and scream with excitement. She wasn't an exhibitionist by habit. Maybe after tonight, that would change. For the most part, everyone ignored them as they drove by. A few of the older men marveled at the classic Mercedes. Two expensive looking women looked past the dramatic car, looked past the deep tint and looked directly at Marta and her cream white skin and her achingly erect nipples. One frowned predictably. But not the other. A coy smile and a twinkle in the woman's eye filled Marta with an eruption of joy.

"Oh my god," she exclaimed. "I want to go do that again!" Andre smiled back. This was the best outcome he could hope for.

"That was the surprise that I didn't plan. In the glove box is the one I did." She fumbled around, found the latch in the darkness and pulled it. The lid dropped slowly and a little light came on inside. The glove box was occupied by only three things. A small leather pouch of Andre's vehicle documents, a travel size bottle of lube and a pink silicone vibrator. A very pricey Japanese one. She beamed.

"Is this why my panties are around me knees?"

"No, that's only because I'm a pervert and I want to look at them and touch them"

"You are NOT a pervert."

"So it's okay to drive home a younger woman with her panties between her knees" Andre teased her endlessly about the difference in age even though neither actually noticed the gap.

"Abso-fucking-lutely it is," Marta replied. "As long as you promise to pound her brains out later."

"We're friends for a reason," Andre said.

"Yes we are," she replied and sunk back a little further in her seat contemplating how to do this next part. The leather under her skin was warmer now. She slid her skirt up her thighs and tried to spread her legs. The thong was becoming problematic. So she pulled her knees up to her chest and slid the thong off just her right leg, after untangling it from her heel, she pulled it to rest half way up her left thigh. "Here, so you can play with it, you pervert," she said with a grin. He did indeed, stroking the now sticky, cool wet lace between his fingers. He stroked it up her skin again. She tremored. She loves wet pussy. Other women's wet pussy as well as her own. Especially her own. She rocked her hips further forward on the seat and really could spread her legs now. She admired the self-control that Andre showed as she did. He really was watching the road. His speed was picking up as the road straightened. The cool breeze tossed her hair about. It swirled around her nipples with predictable results. She held the tip of vibe to her waiting, wet lips and slid it up and down, deciding if she needed lube or not. She didn't think so. She tucked it just part way inside her, churned it a few times and slid it back up to her clit. No, she was wet enough. Cool air swirled around her hungry clit now, too. She twisted the switch on the vibe, laid her head back against the seat just as it turned it on, just a bit. "ahhhh." She now had Andre's attention. She gazed at him and she teased her clit with the tiny, buzzing machine.

"Spread it open for me. Show off a little," he said. She spread her lips open with the fingers of her left hand, exposing the most perfect pink nature ever created. Her right hand continued to circle the vibe around her clit. "mmm" he said, reminding himself to look at the road. Then he firmed up his grip on her thigh, thong pinched in between, and drove. She finally fully inserted the vibe. Stroking herself, waves of pleasure from within, swirls of cool air across her skin, the rumble of the road and the engine outside the window, her hair flying every which way... or stuck in her mouth,which being so busy, she ignored. She switched from impressing him to loving herself. The urgency increased. The depth increased. She cupped her breast and twisted her nipple and turned up the volume on the vibe. Soon, she wasn't loving herself, she was fucking herself. With intensity and determination. They were on the interstate now, the wind was buffeting the interior, they were passing cars who may or may not have known what was going on. She couldn't tell and didn't care any longer. She reached climax with muted squeaks and moans. Then that moment of short gasps and panting. She pulled the vibe out of her cunt and buried it onto her clit with both hands. Her orgasm was hot and loud. Her wetness was smeared everywhere. She had never cum in a moving car before. Two different types of exhilaration. The car's speed seemed at once too fast and eerily slow. Her body began to calm. Reality filtered back in.

She then turned the vibe off and held it to Andre's lips. He kissed it as he glanced at her, she persisted and he drug his tongue from one end to the other. She twisted it to find fresh juiciness on its surface. He licked that clean, too. "Taste me", she insisted. She loved watching lovers consume her. He then pushed it toward her. She inserted it one more time for maximum wetness and then brought it up to her mouth and deep-throated it. Sucking it clean. Then placed it in her lap. All smiles, all around.

"Well done," he said.

"Thank you."

She curled her body toward the middle of the car and felt all the feelings. She was hot, her body was tingling. Her clit was throbbing. Her hair was a mess. She felt amazing all over. They pulled off the highway. Only a few more miles to his house for the night.

His house was also not new, and a bit like his car, it was exceptional when it was built. A low, flat mid century with flat planes of glass near the roof line all along the perimeter protected by deep eaves. His driveway was fairly long and twisted up the hillside until it disappeared in the back. He parked on the street and shut off the engine.

"Well done" she said, noticing that they had not pulled up the driveway and he was about to walk her up the driveway topless.

"Thank you"

"I think I left a wet spot all over your seat."

"I'll never clean it." His smiling eyes burned deep into hers.

He exited the car. She tried to hide the vibe into the clutch she was carrying, but clearly it was not going to fit. She giggled. Bigger purse next time with Andre. He opened her door. She took a second to flip down the visor and fixed her hair in the mirror.

"Do you want me to leave the lube in here for your next girl?" she asked half sarcastically.

"I would bring it. A hot afternoon parked in the sun and I imagine lube in the glove box ends in tears." She chuckled. He was probably right.

She pivoted her legs out to the ground and slid her thong off of her left leg, again untangling it from her heel, then stood. They met eye to eye again. "Your turn," she said. She started to slip her thong over his head, but stopped short. She pulled up her skirt and pressed the lace into her wetness, really smearing it around for good measure. She looped it over his head and wound it around his neck like a necklace. Making sure the wet part left moist streaks down his cheeks as she pulled. She kissed him deeply. His arms wrapped around her back and filled his hands with her soft skin. His hands were cool from the breeze in the car. Her back was warm from the seat. He could taste her wetness on her own lips. She reached down to make sure he was hard, just curious. He was. A small cool dot of pre-sum had soaked through his black wool pants. Good. He closed the door behind her, the two of them walked to the back of the car to retrieve her modesty from the trunk. She made sure to stand nearly in the middle of the street while this went on. The same soft shut, the same motor purred, the same clasping sound of the latch. They held hands as they walked up the driveway. She walked a bit away from him, just to prove she wasn't hiding. She looked around. All the houses had darkened windows which disappointed her a bit.

They walked around the back of the house and stepped up onto the patio. He seated her in a chair at the table and excused himself inside. Just inside the door, he gently folded her things, placing them on a table. He returned a moment later minus his jacket, and holding a bottle of wine with just one glass.

"Have you done this before? This elaborate sexiness in public?"

"I have not," he said confidently. "But I plan to do it over and over again in the future."

"I want to be part of it."

"I want you to be part of it, too Marta. This has... exceeded expectations." He twisted off the top of the wine bottle and poured a splash in the glass, presenting it to her. "You and I have had a lot of adventures, but I needed to find something we hadn't tried before. Keep you on your toes." He loosened and removed his tie and unbuttoned two buttons on his shirt. "I like this addition" he said, holding her thong to his face and breathing her in.

She thought to herself. Consume me. There was a sense of victory that he took off his tie, but kept her lacy, pussy-smelling necklace in place. She sipped and passed the glass across the table.

Andre gave her an inquisitive look. "How is writing about ghosts?"

"I don't write about ghosts, Andre!"

"You're a ghost writer. I assumed you wrote about ghosts," Andre said as he grinned into the wine.

"I assumed you were kind, but now I know you're a jackass," she shot back with a fiery look.

"Tell me about ghost writing, I really am curious. We've not chatted since you started this full time."

Marta sat up straighter. She drew little circles with her finger on the table top. "I help people get their ideas out into the world. People who have something important to share, but they don't envision themselves as the voice or the conduit for how to make that message understandable to an audience that needs to hear it."

"And there is enough work to keep you busy?"

"Way more work than I can handle."

"Really."

"Yes." Marta didn't offer more.

Andre was curious now. "So how do you choose who you'll work with?"

Marta breathed in. "Hmmm, good question. They have to be able to share. There are people who are so expert, so far down their rabbit hole that I can't find them. That makes it easy to say no. They also have to be able to provide me with resources so I can get their expert-level information, I need to be able to internalize that."

"So you have to become an expert?"

"Hell yeah," she replied with a confident lift of her brow.

"That seems right up your alley."

"I like it. People say 'I like it when every day at the office is different.' My job tests just how much stomach someone has for 'every day is different.'"

"What makes it satisfying?"

"The reaction of people who know they couldn't do it themselves say 'YES! Yes, that's exactly it.' That's a good day at the office. Which.. Is my second bedroom, but you know. Thank you by the way."

"For what?"

"Saying that's right up my alley. That seemed like really high praise from someone that seems to be an expert at everything himself."

"I'm not sure your description feels like it fits on the inside, but thank you, too. I hold you in radically high esteem, Marta. I don't know many people like you."

Marta's eyes glanced down at her finger turning circles on the table and she smiled. She lifted her eyes back to his. She didn't have anything to add and was ready to change the subject from work.

"So how was Belize? You took Simone with you?"

"Simone took herself, thank you very much."

"For real?"

"Yeah, she paid her own way. I bought dinners and rented the villa, but she's independent."

"I see. Did you two pick up hot girls to bring back? Huh? Huh?"

Andre laughed. "That's your style, Marta. Not Simone's. She's much more reserved than that."

"So why didn't you take Simone to the party tonight?"

"A few reasons. First, I missed you terribly. It's been far too long. I cherish our time together, Marta. Second, she's leaving tomorrow for Sicily."

"Sicily? She just got home from Belize. What does she want to find in Sicily that she can't find in Belize?"

"Celibacy."

"Celibacy?"

Andre nodded.

"Celibacy," Marta said the word like a challenge, not a question.