Bromfield's Temptations Ch. 07

Bette laughed. "For a lawyer, you're something else," she said, shaking her head. "How do you think insurance salesmen get their referrals? Or doctors get new patients? Or car salesmen get new customers? It's a dog eat dog world out there, my friend."

I still wasn't convinced. "But doesn't it seem wrong to use people that way?"

Bette stopped smiling and turned to face me. I glanced at her, then back to the road. "We were just at such a party. We were used; we didn't know what was going on when I fucked the money man, and you fucked his wife. Do you feel used? I don't."

"OK," I said. "You've convinced me. I know that sometimes I get a little too squeamish for my own good. But I can see that you're probably right." Then another thought struck me. "Did you say 'money man'?"

Bette laughed. "Sometimes I wonder about you," she said. "You didn't really think Tod Benson with his big gut and tiny weenie was a porn star, did you?"

"I never gave it a thought."

"Now that's settled," Bette said briskly, "do you have a couple in mind who might enjoy our new business?"

"Why don't you give Sandy a call? Maybe invite them over for a party?"

"Do you think Jeff's all right?"

"I don't know; ask Sandy."

We lapsed into a companionable silence for the remainder of the drive home, but as soon as I set our bag down in the bedroom, I grabbed Bette and began pulling her clothes off.

"I'll take care of me," she said, backing away. "Take your shoes off before you get on the bed!"

I kicked my loafers off, stripped my pants down and pulled my polo shirt over my head just in time to see Bette's shorts drop to the floor.

I grabbed her again. "Is that enough foreplay?" I asked, as I squirmed between her bent legs, rock-hard member at the ready.

Her face was already flushed. "I'm ready," she said. She guided me into her body. As soon as I felt her tiny lips part, I rammed myself deep into her.

I knew she had been filled with several cocks much bigger than mine the previous two nights, and I marvelled again at nature's ingenuity. No matter how hard or often you used and abused it, you could never wear a cunt out. She felt as tight then as she had the first time we had sex.

I felt the gathering storm in my loins, and thrust into her even harder. Suddenly the dam broke, and I flooded her womb with my semen.

She kicked me with her heel. "Keep going, damn you! I'm almost there!"

I resumed my frantic motions, but all too suddenly, my manhood softened, and it fell out. I quickly rolled over and thrust my fingers into her.

Her swollen tissues felt like balloons filled with hot water. I now had three fingers in her and I redoubled my efforts, while she played with her clit.

"Ahhhhhh, AHHHHHHHH! There," she breathed, as I felt her warm fluids flow over my hand.

"God, I needed that," she said gratefully. "Now let me get some rest."

I kissed the bridge of her nose and stood up. She was already snoring softly when I reached the door.

Steve called me at the office on Wednesday. "Are you still with us?" he asked.

Bette's logic on the drive home had convinced me. "Sure," I said. "What's up?"

"Could you make a meeting here Friday morning?"

I looked at my calendar. "I can leave here around 9:30," I said. "I should get down there by 11:30. Would that be all right?"

"I can see this might become awkward," Steve said. "Yeh, 11:30 will be fine. When do you have to be back?"

"I have a probate hearing scheduled at 4:00," I said. "But I'll have a couple of hours. Will that be enough?"

"Sure," Steve said. "See you on Friday."

Bette had called Sandy on Monday. Sandy had tentatively accepted Bette's invitation, "But I'll have to see how Jeff feels; you understand how that is."

Sandy called back Wednesday evening. Bette answered the phone, and I heard her say, as she was hanging up, "OK, I'm looking forward to it, too."

"I take it she said `yes'?" I asked.

"She said Jeff's pawing the ground. I guess you cured him. They'll be here at 7:00 Saturday night."

Friday evening, I sat in my favorite chair nursing my first drink of the evening, reliving the afternoon's events. I wondered why Steve had felt it necessary for me to attend that meeting. Five of us had been seated around the table in Steve's office. Steve, Carol and I sat facing the two men from New York.

They were both well dressed, soft spoken, and deadly serious. The older one, a gaunt man named Carmine, was nearly bald, wore a perpetually mournful expression, and spoke with an odd accent. He did most of the talking about rights, distribution, payments, and so forth.

Most of the conversation was in terms I didn't fully understand, but I soon realized that he was a principal. The other, younger man, Richard, represented someone else. Naturally, I wondered who that unnamed someone was and shuddered inwardly at my suspicions. I don't mean to give the wrong impression. I had no reason to believe these men were criminals. There was no overt unpleasantness; there was just an uncomfortable tension in the room, as if demonic forces lurked in the corners.

I spoke when spoken to and merely offered a scrap of legal commentary when it was requested. I finally concluded that Steve had simply wanted them to know that his partner was a lawyer.

I thought about Carmine and Richard all the way back to town, trying first one scenario, then another. But no matter how I looked at it, it all came down to the same thing. Up to now, I had been thinking mostly about my virtue. Now I was worried about my health.

The following evening, while I cleaned up the kitchen after dinner, Bette went into the bedroom to get ready for our first swing with the Morrisons. Then she came into the kitchen to show me the dress she had selected. It was a black wraparound cocktail dress that was half rayon, half black netting. The netting spiraled diagonally across her body, beginning at her right hip and ending on her left shoulder. The dress designer had obviously intended it to be worn over a matching bra . . . only Bette wasn't wearing one.

She saw my admiring gaze and smiled. "I don't have any panties on, either," she said conspiratorially. "But I do have this," she whirled, and the dress flew above her stocking tops.

I whistled. "I have no doubt you'll help him decide which side of the plate he really swings from." I said as I followed her into the front room.

The doorbell rang. Bette sat on the couch while I answered the door. Not surprisingly, it was Sandy and Jeff. Sandy, like Bette, obviously had given serious thought to her costume. She wore an off the shoulder peasant blouse with a scoop bodice, a leather skirt which barely reached below the curve of her buttocks, and three inch heels which emphasized her long, slender legs. Jeff, like me, was dressed more for comfort than for style. He wore his usual sport jacket and slacks.

"Come in, come in," I said, kissing Sandy and shaking hands with Jeff. I ushered them into the living room and waited while Sandy sat in the big overstuffed chair where she and I had first gotten acquainted, forcing Jeff to sit next to Bette.

"What can I get you?"

They placed their orders, and I went into the kitchen to fix their drinks.