Guilty Pleasures Ch. 05

We rode in silence for a few minutes, then somehow found ourselves chatting about what a train wreck the Andersen's last game night had been when they had produced a copy of Cards Against Humanity. Everyone had denounced it at the end of the night as the crudest, most disgusting game in history.

"To be honest," I admitted. "I thought it was freaking hilarious. I'd play it again in a heartbeat."

Wanda snorted. "Yeah, Yancey and I kept quoting rounds to each other the whole way home."

"I wonder if we all secretly loved it and just couldn't admit it out loud in front of each other," I speculated.

"That, or we just couldn't admit it in front of Beth Anne," posited Wanda.

*

As I pulled up toward the front of The Understudy, I took a look ahead and murmured to Wanda, "You might want to do up a button or two more. They look to have a second valet to open your car door and help you out."

Wanda's had strayed toward her blouse, then dropped. "Fuck it. I'm tired of doing and undoing buttons tonight. He gets an eyeful of saggy old boobs."

Saggy? Like hell. "Yeah?" I said sardonically. "I just hope his heart is good." Wanda just smiled.

The kid who opened her door survived. Barely.

We were early for our reservation, but were seated straight away, regardless. We were treated to a cozy little booth for two, facing each other, with a white table cloth that reached the floor, high walls that baffled both sound and sight of the other diners, and enough cutlery at each place setting to fill out a wedding registry.

Wanda saw how cozy and discrete our seating was and slid off her suit jacket once more. She seated herself across from me and in the booth I was left with my entire vision essentially consisting of my lovely friend... with her blouse half open, no bra, and both the contours and color of her aureoles clearly discernible through her shirt. "Shall we go for wine or cocktails?" she asked me, glancing down at the huge menus before us.

"A cocktail for me," I replied. "And a strong one. But I'm just having the one. I have to drive," I added.

"Mmmm," Wanda said, picking the wine list. "I would truly hate for anything to impair your... performance when we leave."

Our lead waiter appeared, introduced himself, checked out Wanda appreciatively, but with such aplomb that I deduced that looking down at impressive cleavage was an unwritten but routine benefit of working at The Understudy. It turned out that we had a four-person team of servers to coddle us through the meal. Cody, a young man our daughters' age, seemed to have no other responsibility than coming by and wielding a crumb scraper to keep the table clean. I am not sure how many times he visited and fussed over our table, but it was probably equal to the number of visits he paid to all other tables. Once she twigged to what he was doing, Wanda amused herself with figuring out how many different poses she could make to show off that cleavage for him.

Mindy, an unreasonably cute twenty-something, was our bread server, who swooped in regularly to keep us well-supplied with unreasonably delicious, crusty French bread. In fact, she came to check out our bread basket with almost the same regularity as Cody. She was not checking me out, alas. Wanda was less amused at Mindy's fascination with her open neckline, but I thought it was fucking hilarious.

It was about Cody's third visit to clean non-existent crumbs, all before the appetizers arrived, that Wanda relaxed and started actually showing off for him. Honestly, it warmed my heart. She might have been fretting off and on that her body was somehow not going to be up to my standards somehow, and clearly meaning it, but her preening for Cody told me her insecurities were only surface thoughts. Deep down, this woman knew she was a beauty, as she ought to.

Also, I really was getting a great show as well, whenever Cody came by.

We split a charcuterie board with some very obscure cuts and cheeses as our appetizer, and actually fussed at each other over who was going to get the last bit of a French cheese called Epoisses. It was soft, with an insanely good rind. I later read that it is supposedly illegal in the US, so, um, yay The Understudy?

When my brain cleared of Cheese Lust and returned to regular old Feeling Guilty About Friend's Wife Lust, I smiled and sat back. "I really have been out of things for a while. I forget, the girl gets what she wants on a date," I said and gestured at the last bite.

"That's the smart guy I know," Wanda murmured and picked up the bite. I watched as she opened her mouth slightly and slowly pressed it in between her lips.

I kind of leaned forward again.

Then, as she pressed the cheese into her mouth, along with a delicate finger, I felt a bare foot start caressing my calf. I jumped, then relaxed, eyes still on her finger, clasped as it was between her lips.

Her bare... well, I guess stockinged, toes caressed the side of my calf, then trailed up and down my shin with exactly the right pressure.

I let my eyes visibly roll up in my head for a moment, betraying the very real thrill I was getting. "Footsie?" I asked quietly.

Wanda let the finger slip from her mouth and I saw her pause to finish savoring the bite. Her foot did not pause. "Why not?" she asked at last. "Footsie is a time-honored way for a girl on a date to let the guy know that he is doing well. And to tell him that if he plays his cards right, he's going to get lucky later," she added slyly.

I silently smiled. And pushed my leg forward a little.

I should not be doing this. We should not be doing this. Even if Wanda and Yancey really needed something to happen. Even if I did too... This 'solution' was risky as hell, and just... wrong on general principals. I should not be doing this.

Of course, in recent times, I had become a champion at doing things I should not be doing.

I looked at Wanda. I drank in her cleavage. I thrilled at the caress of her toes on my calf... well, now on my knee. This thing that we were in the middle of doing... this was going to be relatively easy to get myself on board for.

Our entrées came, and Wanda's foot started minding its own business while she attacked her pheasant. That was fine with me, as it allowed my footsie hard-on to subside so I could truly enjoy my suckling pig.

"This place is crazy good," I observed, in a brief moment where my mouth was not full. Wanda nodded, and might have been about to reply, but Lady Mindy du Pain reappeared to check our bread situation. Normally, a restaurant stops trying to fill you up on bread once the real food arrives, but Mindy had apparently not heard of that idea. She took her time checking to see if we needed a refill, (we didn't) and really spent most of the time checking out Wanda.

Wanda was not nearly as into Mindy's transparent ogling as she was into Cody's, but she didn't shoo her away, either. That meant I didn't get the preening show from Wanda, but that was okay by me. Since Mindy was turned toward Wanda, I got to drink in a good look at our bread server's splendid, petite ass, which was showcased in very form-fitting black trousers.

It honestly felt good to check out Mindy. I didn't have to feel guilty for once about where my eyes were resting. If a red-blooded guy can't mack on a waitress's ass in deliberately tight pants, what is America coming to?

Once Mindy had gotten her eyeful of Wanda's chest, she turned to leave, ignoring me. My eyes followed that ass as it departed. Then they swung back to Wanda, who had clearly been following their progress. She grinned at me. I actually blushed.

"Sorry," I said, thoroughly busted. Shit. I did not want to feed her issues with not being good enough...

Damn. Now I was feeling guilty about staring at Mindy's ass after all!

"Nice ass, huh?" Wanda said drily.

I nodded sheepishly, looking for a way to apologize.

But Wanda just laughed. "What? You think I mind?" She leaned forward carefully. "Clark, darling, I know this is weird. It's weird for me too. But do keep in mind that this," she said, indicating the two of us with a finger, "is not meant to be a relationship, remember?" Her smile became crooked. "It is some kind of bizarre, therapeutic, loving revenge plot, or... something," she finished, frowning little suddenly.

"I don't like 'revenge' either," I said quickly, pouncing on the word that had bothered me as it had her. "We are just out here balancing the ledger, right?"

"Exactly!" Wanda said quickly. "But when it comes to who owes who what," she went on, bizarrely punctuating her point with another bare-toed caress of my leg, practically up to the knee, "You don't owe me anything, Clark. This is a limited time offer, remember? This thing is transactional on all three of our parts, though I am very glad that you want to make it a little romantic as well. I want to take some time to cash my hall passes in, but this has a definite end point. You," and now her toes were gliding past my knee and along the nearby stretch of thigh, "have just come off a long dry spell. Don't let me keep you from exploring options!"

The only option I felt like exploring right then had her toes stroking my thigh about seven inches from my getting on towards granite cock. It must have shown in my eyes.

"I'm not suggesting that you go try to turn Mindy from her lesbian ways this evening," she snorted. "Just know that you should be out there looking for a woman or women of a more casual, or more serious nature than yours truly. I'm not going to get upset. I'll probably be happy for you."

Her toe suddenly broke contact with me. I jumped a bit at the cessation of stimulation. "Two caveats to that," she added. "Most importantly, don't go getting involved too heavily with anyone until I have had all my hall passes," she said merrily, but her pointed finger made it clear that she meant it.

"And secondly, especially not with Mary! I am not crossing streams with my daughter while this is going on," she finished sternly.

I opened my mouth to apologize for what had happened, something I had not actually done by that point, but Wanda forestalled me.

"Calm down, Clark," she smiled a little ruefully. "You are a healthy, single male, with what I am counting on being a still-powerful sex-drive. Mary's of age, and to hear her tell it, she practically raped you. I'll admit that I was pretty peevish when I walked into your back yard, for all sorts of reasons," she added in an aside, "but I think I can forgive you."

"Mostly," she added. But the toes were back.

"What..." I said slowly. "You talked to her about it? She told you about what happened?!?" There was so many ways that could have gone wrong. Could still go wrong. What had Mary said?

"My friend," Wanda said seriously. Her foot had stopped moving, but it had not left my leg. "When a mother discovers her daughter is in a complicated situation with a complicated man, she is going to talk to her."

I just looked at her, appalled and embarrassed. "Wanda, I..."

"I do have one very serious question, for you," she said soberly. Her eyes stabbed mine and I held my breath. "Which was worse, having Becca walk in on you fucking her friend, or having me walk in on you fucking my daughter?"

I choked on my cocktail, and Wanda's laugh was jarring in the quiet of the romantic restaurant.

*

Once we had negotiated the valets after dinner, I drove both of us back toward my house. Wanda's foot had made it all the way up to explore the stony bulge in my suit pants by the time dessert had been finished, and I admit that my foot was a little heavy on the accelerator.

"That was an amazing meal," I said happily. It really had been good. The check had been an eye-opener, to be sure, but all in all, it had been worth it. "I hope you enjoyed it," I added. "I certainly did, even when you were busting my balls."

"It was delicious, thank you," Wanda said easily. "Just what we needed to kick this off, right?" Then she fell silent and we enjoyed wordless company for a mile or so.

"I don't think I've ever heard you talk as much as you have tonight," I observed, making a turn off the highway. "Of course, I haven't spent so much time with you, one on one, since we did our daughters' middle school science fair projects for them..." I was babbling and I knew it, but I had to fill that sudden silence.

This was such a bad idea. I was totally, desperately, into it now, but it was a bad idea.

Wanda put her hand on my shoulder... not my leg, or my hand, or God-forbid my lap, but my good old, non-erogenous shoulder. "I know you are nervous Clark. And I know you have doubts," she said quietly. "I am and I do, too. Keeping you off balance felt like the best way to keep myself on."

My car rolled into my driveway (the garage was full with a project I was working on). I killed the ignition and suddenly started, looking around. "Everybody in the neighborhood knows us," I fretted. "What would they think if they saw us getting out together here?"

Wanda laughed. "What are they going to do? Tell Yancey?"

I might have fretted more, but my house was only yards away. My recent ability to enjoy myself in spite of my better judgement and moral beliefs was kicking in, and I wanted Wanda inside my abode. I popped out of the car smoothly, still not wanting to appear furtive. Wanda did not wait for me to open the car door for her, probably for the same reason.

I did open the front door of the house and hold it for her. She stepped through smoothly. I took a deep, silent breath as I swung it closed.

She was moving into the house, and I stepped behind her, stopping her by sliding my arms around her middle and pulling her back against me.

"Mmmm," was all she said, before I buried my face down into the corona of bright copper hair on the side other head. I kissed the side of her neck, although I had to bend a good bit to reach it. We both sort of moaned softly.

I nuzzled harder, then lifted my hands. They slid up her blouse and clasped her braless breasts. Her nipples were as erect as my cock, which pressed against the base of Wanda's back, and I pinched them through the fabric, but not for very long. Sometime on the ride home, those extra buttons had come open again, and the shirt was open all the way below her breasts. I let go just long enough to slip my hands inside the blouse and there I was, in my living room, with my hands glorying in massaging the bare flesh of my good friend's wife's awesome boobs.

Fuck Yancey, I thought. He got his. Rebecca also had an awesome rack back then. Still does, honestly. Now, I would get mine. In a while, we would be even, and we could go back to watching football and fretting about Tar Heels basketball. I ruthlessly banished any doubts about this obviously excellent plan.

Wanda's hands, also apparently forgetting to be nervous, slid back to grasp my hips, caressing them and pulling them toward her. I ground my cock against her with a growl. Neither hand wanted to let go of those large, luscious boobs, but I made my left one do so. I needed to pull her shirttails free of her skirt and unfasten the remaining buttons. I did so with dispatch, and then let go with my other hand to slip the blouse off her shoulders. Wanda shrugged her arms free and I tugged the garment fully from between us and from the back of her skirt, tossing it aside.

My hands flew back to fill themselves with her softness as if of their own accord. I cupped those breasts desperately. They were indeed amazingly firm and heavy, and felt divine.

Wanda's hands grasped mine, crushing them against her chest and making me squeeze hard. She moaned.

Suddenly, she spun in my arms, tilted up her head, and we were kissing. This was no gentle, exploratory kiss. It was not romantic, or loving. It was a sex kiss... just another way for our bodies to feed the sudden, desperate urge to merge.

Holy shit, could the woman kiss.

Her hand stole down between us, exploring the aching bulge in my trousers. I moaned in almost relief, without even removing my tongue from between her lips. Wanda then tore her mouth from mine and sank down to her knees on the extremely soft carpet. Her fingers worked my zipper, and then slid inside. I had worn boxers, instead of my normal briefs that night, since I reasoned that they would be easier to take off. I had not even considered that they would make it a lot easier for a woman to haul my fully erect cock out of my fly. But they did make it easy for Wanda.

Buy boxers. That's my advice.

Wanda just stared at my cock, holding it gently. She stroked it lightly and looked up at me. "I have thought about doing this for years, Clark. Thinking it would help make things right... make them even," she breathed with a smile. "But I hope you know that since I realized that we were going to make it actually happen, I've been looking forward to it on its own merits..."

Suddenly her mouth was on my cock, slurping my helmet into her mouth wetly. I practically yelped in relief, "Oh Christ, Wanda. I have too!"

It wasn't entirely true. Most of my speculation and anticipation had centered on fantasizing about fucking her. But I had definitely worked in some imagery of getting head from Wanda too.

She proceeded to show me what pale fantasies they had been.

Sucking on me hard, she slid her head up and down on my cock, each pulse taking more and more of me into her mouth. Her tongue flattened out, and while it stroked my cock with each movement, it mostly got out of the way, especially as she took me deeper.

There was a single, guttural noise and a hesitation as my cock first slapped her glottis, but then instantly, she had me past and into her throat. I moaned mightily, working to keep my knees from buckling as she buried her face in the fly of my pants and my cock deep in her throat. One hand grabbed my ass, while the other tickled my balls completely free of my fly.

Wanda twisted herself a few times like that, then slid me completely from her mouth., both hands flying up to massage my shaft as it reappeared. She looked up at me and smiled. Holding my gaze, she bent and began to bathe my member with strokes of her tongue that ran the gamut from light brushes, to teasing caresses, to wet, sloppy licks. Each came at just the right time, in just the right combination, with just the right touch to leave me a quivering, tottering, gleeful wreck.

She kept her eyes on mine continuously now, holding my gaze with those emerald magnets. She worshipped me, and made me utterly helpless.

There is absolutely no substitute for experience.

This was an utterly ridiculous situation. I was standing there in my entryway, fully and completely clothed, only my dick poking out my fly, receiving the best head since at least the last year of my marriage... second to last year. I grinned wildly down at Wanda. She grinned back, and suddenly, I was buried in her mouth again.

She didn't deep-throat me again. She had made her point. She just demonstrated other wet and wonderful ways to... focus my attention.

I could see nothing in the world but those brilliant, smiling green eyes staring up at me, and my cock being taken in and out of her luscious red lips. I briefly perceived her swaying tits below, and wished I could mangle them some more, but they were below my reach. I settled happily for running my fingers through her coppery hair.

I didn't grab her head, that wasn't my style, but I had to touch that hair.

My orgasm approached very slowly... until it started approaching very fast.

"Oh wow," I gasped in warning. "I'm so close!"

Her only response was to suck a little harder, to let me know she had heard me, then returned to her own plan. It was a great plan. An awesome plan. Possibly the greatest plan since the invention of plans. And boy, did it work.