Guilty Pleasures Ch. 04

Turns out, the voice of your good friend discovering you in the middle of fucking her twenty year-old daughter... is way worse.

My vision, which had narrowed to the gorgeous redhead whose legs I was between, widened back out, to encompass the shocked form of her mother, still dressed from work, who had wandered into my backyard, via the side gate.

My mind absolutely gibbered with panic. How had I not even thought to worry about this version of getting caught? My body betrayed me and I'm pretty sure I drove twice more into Mary before my brain's desperate pleas finally convinced my hips to stop goddamned thrusting. I tried to pull out of her then, but Mary, who of course knew that voice all too well, also panicked, and slammed herself against me, clinging for dear life.

Trapped with Mary's face buried in my neck, my wide eyes locked with Wanda's blazing green gaze.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Fuuuuck.

"Wanda!" I babbled. "Uh, hi! I... uh..." There were no words. It had been an astounding feat for me to utter what noises I had.

"Mom!" gasped Mary, twisting away from me as she realized that burying herself in my arms might not be the actual haven at which she had instinctively clutched. "I... we..."

Suddenly, Mary was clutching her hands over her boobs and yanking her knees up to her chest, legs tight together. That left me kneeling there beside the chaise, my bobbing, angry, and bereft erection, dripping with her daughters juices, in full view of Wanda.

Her gaze was literally withering, as I have never lost an erection that fast. I broke my own paralysis and sat back on my haunches, covering myself below the waist at least with the dubious cover of the chaise.

"Mom, I..." Mary started to say desperately, but Wanda cut her off.

"Stop! Not another word," she said, the anger in her voice leavened only by the incredulity. "Get dressed. Go home. We have so much to talk about, young lady." Wanda paused to gather herself with a visible effort. "Your father is out of town in Atlanta tonight. We might possibly not have to tell him about this... depending." She glared at me with those final words. It was momentarily hard to be cowed. upon hearing such sudden, unlooked for hope. But I managed to be cowed anyway.

Mary lunged for her clothes, wordlessly leaping into her shorts. She donned her shirt, doing up all the buttons and at least not looking like the slutty dream she had when she had first come into my yard. Not that it cut any mustard with Wanda. She just shook her head at her daughter. "Clark and I are going to have... a discussion," she snapped at Mary. "I will be home later. Wait. For. Me. There."

Mary shot a glance at me that was simultaneously apologetic and imploring, and which did her no favors with her mother, before practically sprinting out of my yard.

Wanda looked back at me, still cowering behind the chaise. "Put your pants on, for God's sake," she snorted, looking pointedly away from me. As I scrabbled for my trunks, keenly away that I had no shirt out here to wear, Wanda's shoulders slumped and she stepped toward one of my big outdoor wicker chairs. She plopped down on it almost despairingly, snapping, "And pour me a goddamned drink."

A drink? Now?

Well, it occurred to me, were I in a similar situation, I would be experiencing either a murderous rage, or a desperate need for a stiff one. Hoping that alcohol would be enough and Wanda wouldn't opt for both, I yanked at my trunks and turned toward the house.

I paused as I finally got the suit up over my ass, and turned back to Wanda. "Chardonnay okay?" I asked tentatively.

"Bourbon, you ass," came the acidic reply. Wanda seldom drank the hard stuff.

Altering my intended destination from kitchen to living room, I poured two fingers into two lowballs from my best currently open bottle, a Basil Hayden's single barrel, tossed in some ice from my ice maker, and proceeded with as much haste as my reluctant feet could muster to return to Wanda. I handed hers over and sat in the next chair.

She took a big slug and inhaled softly at the burn. She looked deep into the glass, then slowly at the chaise across my pool. Finally, she looked up at me.

"Really, Clark? Really?" Wanda asked, almost plaintively.

I met her eyes briefly, before gazing into my own glass. I took an unwisely large gulp myself. The burn felt... deserved.

"How long has this been going on?"

"The cruise," I said softly. "At the very end. Just the once, and we were interrupted before..." I cut myself off, not wanting to go down the road of explaining how.

"So, since then you've been fucking my daughter?"

"No!" I said hastily. "We've stayed away from each other. I mean, she came by for a pool hang with Becca and eight other kids last Saturday, but that was it." My mouth was running away with me. "Then today, she just..."

Do. Not. Throw. Mary. Under. The. Bus.

"We... we decided to finish what we had started," I said miserably.

Wanda just stared at me, taking another big slug of the whiskey. Anger and incredulity still warred in her eyes as they stared at me. I resumed fretting about not having a shirt. Why hadn't I grabbed one when I went in for the drinks?

"I know," I said miserably. "She's only twenty..."

Wanda snorted. "Let's say that I am aware she is not... was not a virgin, Clark," she said acidicly. "I was more focused on the fact that she is my daughter." She took another sip.

"I know," I said miserably. "I understand, believe me," I added, really beginning to wallow in my guilt.

"No you don't," Wanda snapped, taking yet another belt. "If anyone was going to fuck you, it was supposed to be me!"

What?

I stared at her. I had not thought my eyes could have gotten wider than they had earlier, but I was certain that they now did.

Wanda clearly realized what she had said, but too late. She looked back at me in shock of her own. We stared at each other, each looking like we had seen a dancing hippo with a machine gun.

"What?" I said out loud.

Wanda looked at me, frozen. That was okay, I was frozen too.

My confusion was exacerbated by the fact that Wanda is... when I first met her, ten years before, she was pretty much a smoke show. Time had since been very kind, in some ways truly benevolent to her, leaving her more like a glowing ember show, but still definitely a helluva show. A few inches taller than her daughter, they share the same buxom build, same curvy hips, and Wanda's hair has lost none of the coppery brilliance or wavy texture of her daughter's mane. Her face, with the benevolence of time, is less cute than elegant, and she possesses an earthy confidence that is a joy to hang around with.

I have never had that mysterious reality distortion field that let me ignore Wanda's looks the way I used to be able to do with Mary. Since I'd known the Franklins, no get together had passed without a good appreciative look or three in Wanda's direction. I had felt her noticing my glances from time to time. She was well used to them, and had never seemed to mind.

But I didn't lust after her, and I didn't fantasize about her. Even once I was divorced, she and Yancey always seemed well and truly solid. And if they hadn't been, Yancey was my friend. My very good friend.

And I had damned sure never imagined there were any thoughts about me on Wanda's part! What the fuck was this?

I should have just shied away from whatever glitch those words had been. But what if they weren't a glitch? I had just had my cock in her daughter, after all.

Fuck.

I ran through the likely scenario: She wished that she had come onto me, in my monstrous loneliness, so that I would not have leapt at Mary? Was any of that even true? Why did all these women who liked me seem so convinced my life was some giant sea of loneliness?

I mean, I was lonely, yes. But I had a pretty good existence.

Wanda clearly looked like she wished she had never spoken a word in her life. She stared at me warily. Not as warily as I was staring at her, now for multiple reasons, but still quite warily. Then she grimaced, and said simply. "Yancey fucked Rebecca."

Please note, she said Rebecca. Not Becca. Rebecca is my ex-wife.

"What?"

"It was about a year before you guys divorced," Wanda said apologetically. "I found out about it, and made Yancey cut it off instantly."

"You didn't tell me?" I demanded incredulously. I was a sea of suddenly roiling emotions, but in an almost detached way. It was weird, but I could see that none of the myriad unpleasantries in my mind were as intense as I would have expected. "Wanda, why?"

"I'm sorry," she said, almost meekly. "I knew I should said something. But if I had, you would not have taken it as calmly then as you are now."

Calmly? Calmly!? I guess I was not feeling the need for violence... Time and all that.

"I wanted to have the chance to see if Yancey and I could repair things. We were pretty rocky at the time, even without the fucking of Rebecca... but I still loved him, or at least I hoped I did. We worked and worked at it, and in most ways, I think we are stronger now than ever. Certainly miles ahead of the doldrums we were in back then. By the time I felt he and I were back on solid ground, I was afraid to tell you, because I'd waited so long." She grimaced. "Then Rebecca went and divorced you anyway, the stupid bint. And as down as you were, I thought that telling you at that point would have just been cruel."

As I said, I was calmer than I'd have expected. That does not mean I was calm. "I think I'm going to have to talk to Yancey," I said, almost to myself.

"Clark! Don't, um..."

"Easy, Wanda. I am fine. I had already figured out that she must have cheated on me toward the end. I just have proof now. I don't care enough about her anymore to get too terribly mad. That said," I finished almost good humoredly, "at some point, Yancey and I need to have a little chat."

"I just... I don't..." Wanda said, still uncertain.

"But that still doesn't explain," I went on, still almost to myself, "what you meant to begin with." Don't think out loud about someone else, right in front of them. Especially not when you don't really wish to restart a conversation.

Wanda didn't look like she wanted to restart the thing either. But she also seemed like she did, now that she had. She took a deep breath.

"Like I said, Yancey and I have patched things up, and are mostly better than before. But it just won't go away. I've forgiven him, and he has forgiven himself, I think." Wanda looked at me seriously. "But we still have the problem. It is an imbalance, if you will. He did it. I didn't. We can't quite get past it."

"You guys seem so happy, so together," I offered, a little puzzled. I feel like I'm a bit more perceptive than the average guy (cheating wife aside), and I meant what I said about Yancey and Wanda.

"We are," Wanda said firmly. "But..." she thought a second, "but I win every argument."

I laughed. "The wife always wins the argument, Wanda. That's not news."

"We wives win because the wife is almost always right," Wanda snorted. "And I am right, of course, almost all the time." Her grin faded. "But even when I know I'm wrong, when I'm just being bitchy about something, I win. We are not even in our relationship."

"I see," I said.

I did not see.

"Back right when it happened, when I was deciding if I should tell you," Wanda said, a whole lot more hesitant again, "I wondered if the best thing to do, or at least the most satisfying, would be to just hook up with you, so we could both get some revenge."

"Wanda!"

"Yeah, I know," she muttered.

"I don't understand," I said. "If you have patched things up with Yancey, how are you still even thinking about revenge?"

"I'm not. Not about revenge. Not any more. But... I do still think about how uneven things remain. Yancey had his fun. Whether I forgive him or not. Whether you forgive him or not, he still is one up on me... on us. Not a year goes by where it isn't occasionally in the back of my mind that there would be an easy way to reset things. To make the field level again."

I stared at her in final comprehension.

She quirked her lips in a half-smile. "So now you can see why I am a little peeved at my daughter for grabbing a guy I sort of felt I had dibs on."

And she didn't stop looking at me. I know that look. I'd seen it from three other women lately, including earlier that day.

Now that her 'evening up' strategy was out in the open with me, she was seriously looking to carry through with it!

Oh, shit.

On the one hand, I was now confronted with a beautiful, entertaining woman who was a full woman, my own age and everything--the sort of partner civilized people have. On the other, she had her own, even more nuclear drawback. Whatever the surrounding circumstances, she was married. Married to my friend.

Who was I kidding? I was weak and broken. Repeatedly. How could I resist this new disaster?

I looked at Wanda, really looked at her. She was my friend too, independent of my relationship with Yancey. Too many things could go wrong. I would not take the risk. I would not let her take the risk.

And Yancey, who was a third party and not being consulted, deserved consideration... despite being the one responsible.

But really looking at Wanda was a serious reminder of how attractive, how sexy she was.

I sighed in pain.

"No." I said, plainly and gently. I realized that I meant it. My self-esteem soared. My dick kind of wept.

"No?" Wanda asked in a small voice.

"I can't do it, Wanda. I..."

Her face just fell apart. This beautiful woman with the unlooked-for saucy attitude sagged. She looked down at her glass, found it empty save for a few, sad, mostly melted ice cubes, and set it gently on the table. Then she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Christ!

"Wanda! My God, Wanda. I... I'm sorry! I just don't think..."

"I get it," she said, looking up a me briefly, with tear-filled eyes, before burying her face once more. "I get it. I knew my chance was gone, and stupidly said something anyway, making you confirm it."

"Wanda..." I searched for words. This was a far different reaction than I had bargained for. "I just don't want to...

"I said I get it!" she almost snarled, though I could tell her anger was not at me. "I've seen my daughter, Clark! After being with... that, why would you want to..." She cut herself off with a gasping sob, gesturing somehow incoherently at herself.

Oh, Hell no! I needed to head this off instantly. I leapt from my chair and went to sit on the arm of the one she was slumped in. I grabbed her shoulders and pulled them gently against me. "Stop right there, Wanda!" I said sternly. I sensed that it had already been a bad idea to take her in my arms in the first place, but I followed it up by putting a gentle finger under her chin and tilting her face up toward me. I was under no circumstances going to let my friend have a breakdown over this stupid, idiotic fear.

I looked her intently in the eyes. "We need to be perfectly clear about something," I went on in the sternest, most serious voice that I could summon. "You need to understand that you are one incandescently hot piece of ass."

That caught her off-guard and I saw a fleeting hint of a smile. It didn't last, but I wasn't done.

I did think it wise to disengage my arm from her and I got up off her chair. I backed away a step or two and knelt down on one knee to bring my face to eye level with her, as she managed to straighten in the seat. "Wanda, ever since I realized where you were going with telling me about Yancey and Rebecca, parts of me have been screaming to just rip your clothes off right now and just fucking revel in you."

"Oh yeah? Which part?"

Thank God. Her sense of humor had come back. She still wasn't happy, but she wasn't crying.

"More than just that one," I said with total honesty.

Here I was, about to bring up Mary. This start of this conversation had supposed to have been about the daughter, and how Wanda was going to kill me over what she had just seen, right? And I was about to go right back there. Sort of.

"I am not saying no because of anything having to do with Mary."

"Really? She is the new model, after all," Wanda grumped.

"She is a sequel," I smiled at her. I wanted to get back off that subject, however. And to the real point. "I am saying no because of Yancey. I know what he did. You told me. And he and I are still very much going to have that chat. But I won't... I can't do this to him. That's why, much as it is absolutely killing me, I have to say no."

She stared at me for a long time. I just knelt there, smiling at her and letting my genuine disappointment show.

Please don't go back to the subject of Mary. Please don't go back to the subject of Mary.

"I have groceries in my car," she said at last. "I was on my way home from the store when I saw Mary's car and..." And I blew up both our worlds. "I better get home before the ice cream melts."

With that, Wanda just stood, smiled, said thanks for the drink, and walked out my side gate. I could not help but watch hungrily as she went. She was older than her daughter. Her boobs were bigger, but could not possibly be as bouncy as her daughter's. But ye gods, she had an objectively better ass, and she knew how to move it. And she was moving it for me in punishment as she left.

For years, I had not encountered an attractive woman who seemed remotely interested in me, and now all of a sudden, this embarrassment of riches... and not a damned one of them I could feel anything other than guilty for even looking at.

*

The next day at work went almost well. I did not have to restrain myself from yelling at my team over anything. An important function test went well. Budget numbers came in better than expected. The company's founder dropped by specifically to see me, delivering an attaboy... and a brutal new project.

Over all, I should have known the day was going too well.

About two o'clock, I was starting to wind the management things up, and thinking about some of my own design responsibilities. It didn't do to let the underlings think they did more actual work than I did. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I set down my folders and pulled it out.

YANCEY FRANKLIN

Oh shit. While I wanted to have a talk with him about Rebecca, I much, much, much more did not want to have a talk with him about Mary.

At least he had not just shown up at my door with a head of steam...

"Hey Yancey," I said easily into the phone.

"Hey Clark," he said back. Then he went quiet for a moment.

"What's up?" I asked, wincing as I spoke.

"I want you to say yes."

"Huh?"

"I want you to say yes to Wanda's idea."

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Thanks for continuing on this latest ride with me! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is the general point in the series where I had planned on ending it in my original outline. Wanda had other ideas. Now, we are less than halfway there, folks. Thanks in advance for your kind votes and favorites, and please take a moment to comment. As always, that's how I get rewarded and encouraged.