Changes Ch. 06

A short, squat, steel sawhorse with a horizontal piece of angle iron across the top sat on my 'level board' on the garage floor. It, along with a couple of homemade clamps, would hold the oxy bottle and I was in the middle of measuring out a small trailer frame to mount this work on when Heather entered. I looked up and almost choked.

She was only wearing panties and bra, a matching, light blue set. Her nipples just showed behind the thin material and I wouldn't let myself look between her legs. She walked closer on white, two inch, heeled shoes with an embarrassed and apologetic smile.

"Uh, yeah. I figured you'd forget about this too. I'm not allowed to wear clothes here anymore, remember?"

I nodded and got back to work, asking, "Was there something you needed?"

"Well, I was wondering if you were going out anywhere today."

"Hadn't planned on it."

"Okay, good. Uh, if you don't mind, I'd really appreciate you taking the delivery when it gets here. You'd be doing me a great big favour, and I'd appreciate it a lot."

"Yeah, I can do that. Open up the bay door so I see them coming."

"Thanks.", she said with a grateful sigh.

She moved to open the door, but began struggling with it. I couldn't help but watch her arse flex and wiggle as she strained this way and that. As soon as I started thinking about pulling those blue panties down and fucking her as hard as I could from behind, my dick sprang to life. Any faster, and I may have been impaled by it.

"Dammit! How do you get this?"

"It's fucked up, I'll get it in a few minutes." (when I could stand without embarrassing myself)

She walked back over with a slightly frustrated look, asking, "Hey, what is it with this place, anyway?

"What do you mean?"

"Well, why's it such a dump? Sorry, I see you try to keep things clean and neat, it's nothing on you, I just wonder, is all. And why do you have that big piece of wood on your wall at the end of your hall?"

I patiently explained to her about the Master Bedroom, watching her brow furrow slightly.

"So, there's a whole room back there? Oh my God, that's so creepy! Have you been in there?"

"Once. I went through the floor, lucky I didn't break a leg or something."

"You actually fell right through the floor?"

"Yup. It's all rotted and falling apart back there."

"Wow, that is so weird." she commented before suddenly noticing what I was doing, asking, "What's this?"

"Probably nothing special, possibly something to blow my head off with."

"Uh huh. This is what you do, is it?"

"Now it is. I used to be a Telemarketer."

"Jeez, I should have known! Uh, hey, I'm kidding, just kidding! she amended, waving her hands when I looked at her sourly.

Crouching with her knees together on the opposite side of the board, she became serious and said, "Look, I understand you're not happy, I'm not overjoyed with the situation either, but it doesn't help to have you acting like that all the time. At leastyoudon't have to run around in your underwear."

I regarded her as seriously as she regarded me and replied, "I'm sorry, I just don't trust you. You're an unknown variable, at best."

"Ohhh, shit. You think I was born yesterday? I'm in this like you are. It was just a couple of days ago thatyouwere trying to makemesee that. I'm sorry about the way I am, but I never meant any harm. Can't you just give me another chance?"

"You're attracted to her. She's seducing you to her ways and it isn't taking her long, either."

She looked down, a silent admission, but then looked up again. "So are you. She told me you're naturally attracted to her in more ways than one."

"But I'm resisting."

"Are you?" she asked. "Or is that just something you convinced yourself of to justify your feelings for her? If you were free to go right now, would you leave her?"

"Oh, fuck! What the hell kind of question is-?"

"You wouldn't, you won't even answer the question. It would be impossible for you to turn your back on her now, despite what you say, wouldn't it?"

" ... You'd be surprised at what all I've turned my back on, blondie. Yeah, maybe I'd want to stay, but it doesn't mean I would."

"Don't call me blondie. It sounds to me like you'd be hard pressed to make a decision either way."

"So, what's your point?" I asked, trying not to think of the fact that I was encouraged to take this woman as I wanted.

"Just that we're both in the same boat and that it's useless for us to fight one another, no matter how this turns out. Why make it worse by being at each other's throats? Besides, that really pisses her off."

"You can say that again."

"Didn't you have sibling rivalry when you were growing up?" she asked. "Wait, let me guess: You're an only child. Your behavior fits that-"

"Two older sisters, and they're some of the first things I gladly turned my back on."

"Oh. Yeah, Mistress said you were a runner. So, we're going to start over again?"

I sighed, but warily agreed to start over again.

She silently watched a little while as I drew out a pattern on the cardboard, measuring and ticking, jotting figures and drawing lines.

"You drink a lot, don't you?"

"Not normally."

"Does Mistress know?"

"I don't think so. I try not to be in the bag when I'm expecting her."

She nodded thoughtfully and, after a pause, said, "Well,... Thanks for receiving the delivery."

With that, she left, me watching that nicely wiggling ass her whole way out the door. I'd opened the bay door like I promised and the delivery came at about half past two. The delivery guy helped me carry the familiar, plain white boxes to the back steps before he left, after which, Heather and I brought them to the bedroom.

"Oh my,... Look at all these expensive clothes! Wow!" she breathed, opening boxes and pulling out items willy-nilly

.

She also received the manila envelope, inside of which was a bank card, her own cell phone with charger, a Ladies Rolex, a collar and, of course, a folded piece of paper with her instructions, one of which was to receive from me the spare set of keys to the BMW.

"Just look at this choker!" she exclaimed, holding the collar up.

It was exactly like mine, except narrower and with red satin instead of black.

"Yeah, it's,... not a choker.", I explained.

"What is it?"

"It's a collar. I have one like it."

She looked at me with her brows raised, then handed it to me, saying, "Put it on me."

"Why?"

"Because I want to see it on me, put it on."

I shook my head, rolling my eyes at her failure to see what the collar represented, but just complied with her wishes rather than argue. I'd already had too much rye for that.

"It symbolizes her ownership of you, y'know.", I told her.

"I love it.", she stated, ignoring my comment entirely. "Let me see yours."

I took it out of the dresser and showed it to her.

"Oh my god, they match. She has style, that's for sure. Put it on."

"No.", I answered adamantly.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to.

"

"Why?"

"I just don't.", I explained, taking it from her hand and putting it back in the dresser where it belonged. (out of my sight)

She looked at hers in the mirror again, fingering its quality metalwork and noted, "You know, at some point,... I suppose these collars will probably be the only thing we're wearing together."

I walked out of the room on that thought and a fresh erection.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

But the thought persisted, as did the image of her in the garage, and there was no removing it from my mind. By the next day, I couldn't keep my eyes off her.

"She called with some errands for me.", Heather reported from the couch.

She sat there, legs crossed and reading a novel, the TV and computer having been destroyed by Dagmar. She looked good enough to eat in her tight, shiny black nightie and I lingered in the living room, trying to think of a reason to stay.

"How are you doing?" I asked her.

She lowered the novel, a trash novel, it looked like, and regarded me with surprise in her expression, but replied, "I'm doing better. I wonder about Bryan sometimes,... Thanks for asking."

"S'no prob.", I said, sitting at the opposite end of the couch, suddenly sleepy and probably a little too drunk.

"Tired?" she asked.

I laughed a little and said, "Yeah. I think I'm mentally drained."

"Emotionally used up.", Heather commented a little quietly. "That's how it was for me when my mother died. After that, there was only what had to be done next. I never even noticed that until yesterday."

"Hmm. Nothing like death or Dagmar to put a person's life into perspective, huh?"

She hissed a short laugh in response, then, "David?"

"Uh-huh?"

"You were right about,... Never mind."

I looked at her, curious about what she would have said, but I didn't bug.

"I should go get dressed and get on her errands." she said, getting up.

"What's she got you doing?"

"Girl Friday stuff. What's she get you to do?"

"So far, just you."

She stopped and jerked around at this, and I couldn't help but watch how this maneuver sent her tits swaying so enticingly.

"Sorry.", I told her potentially offended expression. "I didn't mean it that way, I,... I'm sorry."

"Alright." she allowed carefully, continuing on to our room.

----- ----- ----- ----- -----

It was just after three AM when I looked at the freshly painted, flat green frame with the oxy bottle mounted on it, standing in the middle of my shop floor on a set of hastily improvised skis. (I didn't have two wheels just then) All that was needed now was a trip to a machine shop. I stood admiring the thing, smiling humorously about the skis on shaky, inebriated legs when I heard the BMW return.

I was finished for the night anyway, in more ways than one, so I shut the power off, locked up and met her in the backyard.

"Hey, you wouldn't believe the clothes Mistress has! I mean she has this huge, walk in closet that's just incredible and she showed me all kinds,... Oh wow, you're toasted."

"Naw'm not."

" ... Have you ever thought of what would happen if she were to call and want you over there pronto?"

"I tr-(urp)-try not ta."

"I'll bet you do.", she said sincerely, looking at me with something akin to wonder. Come on, let's get inside. You need help up the steps?"

"I been livin'ere before you, blondie, I do' ne-"(hic!)-no help up 'em god damned steps.Youneed 'elp?"

"Up the steps? No, I'm sober. And you've only been here a little over a year, you told me, remember?"

"S'what?"

"Never mind." she sighed, moving around me in her tight gray skirt and red blouse, unbuttoned since she'd left to show quite a bit of cleavage and the top of her black bra.

She opened the back door and removed a black case before shutting it and moving for the steps with me trailing behind, eying the case suspiciously.

"Wazzat?" I slurred once we were inside, gesturing to the case she'd set on the kitchen table just before collapsing into a chair there.

"It's a video camera. She showed me how to use it."

"Oh. Sorry I axed."

"If I were you, I'd worry about how you're going to explain to Mistress why we can't use it tonight." she said, walking off.

"Waddya mean?" I questioned.

"You're not touching me like that." she said, entering our room.

I got up and made my way there, bouncing lightly off the walls to stand in the doorway, watching her undress. She was just removing her blouse, showing off that nice black bra again, and I felt that old devil in my pants twitch.

"Whatsa prob'm? Not like ya love me, ya don' even like me, do ya?(hic!)"

She stopped pushing her skirt down, pausing with both hands low on her hips and baring the top of her panties, looking at me.

"I like you alright." she told me. "I mean, it's not as if we'd be friends other than this situation, and youarea jerk a lot of times, but you're,..."

"Wha?"

She slid the skirt the rest of the way down, stepped out of it and came forward, standing in front of me with a little smile.

"Underneath your dirt, ratty clothes, unshaven face, crappy attitude and yucky, cigarettes and whiskey breath, you're a nice guy. And I see what's happening in your pants, but you're not touching me like that."

"Wull git 'n trouble." I warned, trying to put some strength in my knees and stop myself from gradually sliding down the doorframe.

"No, you'll get into trouble."

"Wull,... if ya think I'm su-(hickup!)such a nice guy, how come yull lemme get 'n trouble-"

"Because I had to put up with Bryan climbing on top of me drunk all the time and I hated it. He's my Husband and I love him, such as he and our marriage is, but I won't have it from you." she said gently, but firmly.

"But what'm I gonna tell 'er?"

"Maybe we'll just make up for it tomorrow night. It might keep her happy."

" ... Kay."

"Come get into bed now."

"I was gonna stay up."

"And do what in your condition?"

"Watch TV."

"She used that to smash your computer with, remember?"

" ... Oh, yeah....Thatwas right uncool."

"Just get in here, Hank."

"Hank?" I asked as she grabbed me by the front of my shirt and hauled me into our room, pushing me down on the bed.

"I discovered the CD in the Bimmer. Who rides around in a car like that listening to Hank Williams, anyway?" she asked, unbuttoning my pants.

"I do.(hick!)"

"Yeah, you said it.", she agreed with a smile as she pulled my jeans down my hips, pausing at my hardness flopping out.

"Waz wrong?"

"Nothing.", she said, hastily getting back to work, jerking my pants the rest of the way down to my ankles and off. "It's just,..."

She stood straighter and peeled one side of her underwear down, revealing the exact same tattoo as I had.

"I got it today. I actually almost forgot until seeing yours again reminded me."

"Like the collars wan't bad n'nuff, uh?"

"Mmm. Come on, straighten up so we can get this old shirt off you."

----- ----- ----- -----

"Aren't you hung over?" Heather asked me the next morning over coffee at the kitchen table.

"Nope. Still a little buzzed, in fact. It's nice."

"Well, just don't go getting toasted again, at least not until,... you know."

"Yeah, okay."

"Umm,... Have you thought about that?"

"I've been trying not to."

"Gee, thanks."

"That's not how I-"

"I know, I know. Any luck with that, though?"

I laughed a little, looking away from her carefully light expression, replying after a moment, "Some, but not a lot. Doesn't help to see you walking around like that."

"That's probably exactly why I'm not allowed to wear clothes here anymore."

That morning, she wore a pink, floral, lace body stocking that somehow covered both her vagina and nipples. Her hair was thrown up quickly, but nicely and she'd actually put on some of the jewelry she'd brought. I couldn't help but glance at her chest.

"No offense, but it's a pretty effective strategy." I affirmed.

She smiled and looked into her coffee mug.

"She sat me down last night at her place,... Well, we just talked for a while."

"Might I ask what about?"

Heather shrugged, but answered, "Bryan and some other things. You."

I nodded.

"You're not curious?" she asked, surprised at my silence as I took a healthy gulp of my coffee.

"Yeah,... It's just that I'm so tired of thinking about it. It's like being in a round house and being told the bathroom is in the corner. It'd be nice to just leave, but I can't. I can only just keep running in circles, full of hot piss and vinegar and getting nowhere."

There was a slightly heavy pause between us then and I got the feeling that there was something unsaid in the air on her part, something more than whatever they spoke of concerning me. I sighed heavily.

"Alright, what'd you guys say about me?"

" ... Well, mostly things concerning what you just said. How you feel."

"How I feel is trapped and threatened. Not much to discuss there, what else?"

"Look, don't start getting like that, okay? It was,... I wanted to tell you last night, but you were drunk. She assured me that Bryan was cheating on me, told me she'd show me proof positive if I wanted, but I didn't have to see it. I believe her. Do you?"

"Dagmar's not the kinda person who holds an empty gun on someone, even if she has to invent the bullets herself. No, she wouldn't offer up the proof unless she knew she could if you did want to see it. The only reason she didn't show you in the first place was to test your belief in her. Just my assessment, but there ya have it."

"Hmm. Yeah, that's probably true. But the point is that he did, and that they all knew about me. How that makes it worse, I don't know,... Maybe because they were kept women that he was supporting with all of his ill got gains,... Anyway, that whole life is gone now. It would have gone up sooner or later, at least this way I'm insulated, like she said."

"Uh huh. She tell you where she works? What she does there?"

"I picked her up there. G.M.A., right?"

"Yup.", I answered, swirling the half cup of coffee. "Means 'Global Marketing and Associates. It's an outbound telemarketing firm. You know, those annoying bastards that keep calling in relation to your credit cards with unbelievable deals on accidental death and dismemberment insurance?"

"Okay, so?"

"So you're dealing with somebody who really knows her shit, who knows that all of life is a sell. I used to work there myself and I guarantee that, if I called you, you'd buy. If she called you, you'd be asking if she had any additional policies that you could buy as well."

"I'm not buying anything from her.", she said. And I always hung up on telemarketers right away. Bryan,... told me to."

"Of course he did. I expect he started out in sales. You know the difference between a salesman and a con-man?"

"What?"

"Scruples.", I told her, taking another gulp of the wonderful, life giving coffee. "In different measure. For example, some people couldn't do telemarketing because they're afraid to bug people, to verbally rough them up a little if it came to that. I did it and became very good at it; I made an old man cry once."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"Your Husband, Bryan," I continued, "he takes peoples life savings. Fewer people have so few scruples, especially when it comes to ripping off the I.W.K., although I gotta give him points for style on that one."

"Then there's Dagmar. Do you honestly think she's above using her very persuasive talents in the things she does? You honestly think there isn't some fine print you're missing? Maybe around the part where you're 'insulated'? You doubt what I told you about Bryan and what's really going to happen to him?"

There was a long pause as she sat there, refusing to look at me, looking out the window instead at the occasional car passing out on the main road.

"I'm getting a divorce from Bryan." she said quietly, out of the blue.

"She'll be so happy to hear that."

"Mistress is already seeing to it. It was her suggestion and I agreed. He has to go away, it's what's best for me."

"Yeah,... didn't you say last night that you love him?"

"I do, but he ruined us, could have ruinedme. I had no idea he was doing any of that at all, David. None at all. And he even used accounts under my name to do it. And the women,... But he did take care of me, you know. We were married and, even though it was all a house of cards,... well, he did take care of me. So, of course I still love him in that sense, but you know,..."

"You're going to stay with Dagmar, aren't you?"

Of course she would. I knew she would. She was the trophy wife, the pretty girl from suburbia who wanted better things for herself and had gotten it, whatever road she had to travel to get to Bryan. And now that Bryan was no more, she had to move on, and who better than the woman who brought him down and saved her in the process? She was a spoil of war and she knew it, loved it. And she had nowhere else to go.