Knockout Ch. 09-13

He headed for the front door, but stopped when he heard music in the garage. That was where Janice parked, so he usually had no reason to open the door. He did have a garage door remote in his car and thought about going back to use it. He decided instead to investigate from the inside. He went through the front door, laid down his briefcase, and headed into the kitchen, which had a connecting door to the garage.

He heard the music more clearly as he approached the door; it sounded like the playlist they'd been dancing to over the past several days. He put his ear to the door and thought he also heard voices under the music; a woman and a man. He closed the blinds on the kitchen window, darkening the room as much as possible. Stealthily he turned the knob and cracked the door open.

The garage lights were on and he saw Janice's car; she was home early today too. He followed the music and saw a boom box on the workbench; Jan's cellphone was plugged into a port on top. Tim recognized a song with a Latin back beat that he and Jan had danced to in some of their recent lessons.

Then he spotted his wife; in the open space on the other side of her car. It wasn't big enough for a second car, but apparently it was big enough for her to dance. With Jerome. He had a hand on her hip and the other was on her cheek. He was looking straight into her eyes and Janice seemed entranced. Then he spoke.

"Okay, turn your hip out this way, but your head and shoulders the other way; we call it a licorice twist."

Jan's hip turned away from Jerome's lower hand and her head turned away from his upper hand. 'Fuck!' Tim thought, 'It's a dance lesson.'

"Good," Jerome continued. "Now snap them back the other way."

She did as he said, straightening herself out in front of the young football star. He took his hands away and stepped back. "Now, wait for a beat, then do it three times in a row, fast."

She paused, listening to the music, and then in perfect syncopation with a fast cymbal she did three quick 'licorice twists'. Tim thought it looked like someone had dropped a Chubby Checker break into a salsa number; it was pretty cool.

Jerome started moving too, his feet sliding back and forth, while his body waved like a reed in the wind. "The rest is a pretty regular Salsa beat, but those twists fit in really nice during the short, quick fills in the song." Tim actually understood what he meant when he heard a sudden change in the song's beat and Jerome did three quick twists like he'd taught Janice.

Jerome suddenly walked right toward him and Tim pushed the door closed, wondering what he should do. But when he heard the song stop and then restart from the beginning, Tim realized the kid had only walked over to the workbench with the boom box. After the song had gone on for 10 or 15 seconds, Tim risked another look through the door and saw his 28-year-old white wife and their 18-year-old black gardener move through a very smooth and sensuous Hip-Hop/Salsa.

Tim felt conflicted. His first thought had been, 'What is she doing dancing with Jerome?' But after seeing the way the kid moved and the tips he was giving her, it was clear. 'She sure isn't getting dance moves like that from me.' Objectively he could understand her wanting to get ready herself for their dance weekend, but he couldn't shake the subjective feeling of jealousy. Or arousal, he suddenly realized. There were a couple of times when the dance had brought them close together when he almost wanted to see them kiss or for him to touch her breast or she, his crotch. 'So you could catch her cheating?' he asked himself. 'Or just because you wanted to see it?' But nothing happened other than dancing.

Silently, Tim closed the door, and retraced his steps out of the house, closing the front door as quietly as he had the garage connecting door. He eased into his car and used the slope of the driveway to let it roll backward into the street before starting the engine. Then he revved the engine, pulled into the driveway much faster than usual and hit the brakes much harder, to create as much arrival noise as possible. When he got out he slammed the door closed.

He started walking slowly toward the front door, but before he was halfway there, the garage door began rising in its tracks. He stopped and waited. When it was above the halfway point, Jerome came ducking under.

"Hey, Mr., uh, Tim," he said with a smile, although Tim thought he saw and heard a current of guilt in the teenager. Or was he just imagining things?

Janice came out a few seconds after Jerome and Tim noticed the music had stopped since he arrived. She'd obviously been the one to go to the back of the garage to press the door opener and had shut off the music at the same time.

"Hey, honey. What brings you home so early?" she said as she walked over and gave him a peck on the lips. He noticed she sounded out of breath and there was a sheen of sweat on her upper lip. Jerome meanwhile had moved over by his lawn equipment, but didn't seem sure where he should look or if he should even stay.

"I have that business dinner later tonight, remember?" Tim answered as smoothly as he could. "How about you? Pretty early for you to be home too." He barely held back from adding, 'And why were you in the garage with Jerome with the door closed?'

"Well, you remember that presentation I had to re-work at the last minute the Friday before last?" Tim nodded. "Well, Corporate liked it so much they want us to present it on a video teleconference with the European office tomorrow. Because of the time difference, I'll have to go in at five in the morning to prepare, so Peter gave me the rest of today off."

Tim put a smile on his face and kissed her. "Congratulations," he said. "Good to know your last minute hard work was actually worth it and being recognized. I'm sure the Europeans are going to like your proposal. Good work, kid." He kissed her again, but his stiffness showed.

"I, uh, suppose you're probably wondering what Jerome and I were doing in the garage?" Janice said. Tim said nothing and tried to keep his face blank.

His wife looked down at the ground and said, "I'm afraid you caught me cheating."

Tim froze. 'Just like that?' he wondered.

Slowly her head moved up until she was looking into his eyes again, with an embarrassed half-smile. "I know I've been acting like your big dance teacher, but I've been pretty scared about my own performance on the floor. So when I got home early and found Jerome here, I asked him to check out some of my moves, to make sure I wasn't embarrassingly out of date. I'm afraid your teacher's got a teacher."

Tim glanced over to Jerome who was still standing by his mower. The kid just shrugged. "So..." Tim said. "You were cheating on your dancing?"

"Of course," she said in that wicked schadenfreude tone she got when she'd caught him in a good joke or prank. "What else?"

"And you don't have to worry, Tim," Jerome suddenly offered. "I showed Janice one or two new things we're doing now, but even without that she rocks the dance floor. You guys are going to have a great time if you just follow her lead."

"Just follow my lead," she repeated with a wink. "Thanks a lot, Jerome, I really appreciate you taking the time."

"Anytime, Janice, anytime." And he meant it. As he waved goodbye and rolled his equipment down to his next client's house he was already thinking about the stroke session he was going to have tonight, remembering how hot Mrs. Stanley had looked dancing with him in her garage.

Ch. 13: Marble in the Moonlight - Wednesday night

During the business dinner that night, whenever the conversation shifted away from Tim's area of focus on the project, he found himself drifting back to the scene in the garage. Jerome was just a kid, ten years younger than Janice and they'd known him for four years. If Tim was going to get jealous over what was obviously just a dance lesson, how was he going to handle grown men at the club dancing with his wife and probably hitting on her?

Tim finally made his break, hanging on for just one drink after dinner, and headed home. Janice had already turned in since she had to get up so early the next morning. As he lay there, looking at her naked body in the moonlight coming through the window, Tim thought about that body moving around the dance floor with another guy; with several other guys. But at the end of every dance she always came back to their table; to him.

He had one of those conscious realizations of something that previously had always just been known without thinking. He'd gotten over being jealous about Jan dancing with other guys at school because she never blocked him out and at the end of the night she always went home with him. Not out of obligation, but because he's the one she really wanted. Dancing was dancing, fucking was fucking, loving was loving.

Oddly enough, this understanding, this sense of security, suddenly made him think of Janice fucking another guy without any jealousy. They'd role-played the scene many times, just a week or so ago, he remembered, while watching Behind the Green Door. Now he thought ahead to their anniversary weekend and found he was able to imagine the other dancers hitting on his wife with interest and passion instead of fear and jealousy.

She liked the gangbang scenes in pornos they watched together as much as he did (and he did, he admitted). Her pussy would get wonderfully wet and she would eagerly join in the fantasy talk about her being one of the women in the film. Tim knew she'd look fucking hot in a spit-roast. And, he thought, she'd fucking love it too -- as long as she could relax and enjoy it. Which she could/would only do if he was fully on board.

'Fucking is fucking and Loving is loving,' he thought as he began stroking his hardening cock. He quietly got to his knees alongside his wife's sleeping body and carefully moved the sheet off her ass. It looked fucking mystical with the light of a full moon shining through the window. He damn near jumped off the bed to find his camera to capture this image, but stayed still instead to keep from waking the ass's owner.

It meant he also couldn't touch it or kiss it, two more strong urges that were grabbing at him. Instead he just kept looking at the alabaster glory in front of him; it was like a Michelangelo statue come to life. He imagined jacking off like this over her ass as another cock pushed its way into her pussy.

He looked sideways and saw the moonlight was playing the same incredible game in lighting up her beautiful face. That face that looked so good with his cock pushing into it. But he was busy at her ass right now, so someone else's cock would have to fuck her mouth. One strange cock fucking her mouth, while another one fucked her cunt, and he watched. Suddenly he was coming; he actually caught himself by surprise and his hand had to jump into faster speed to catch the fucking wave and turn his sudden dribbles into serious spurts. But he made it and now he was painting his wife's fine ass with stripes of white on white.

Tim wanted to wipe his cock on her ass, wanted to lick his cum off of it, wanted to shove his cock in her mouth for her to clean off. Somehow he managed to bite back on his groans and just shake the last few drops on her perfect, round cheek.

Afterwards, he couldn't resist snuggling up against her in the classic spoon position and she did react. But it was no more than a sigh of contentment, as if now, finally, she could really relax and sleep peacefully.

He planted one final, gentle kiss on the back of her neck, then joined her in slumber. His final waking thoughts and following dreams always ended with her coming back to their table; for him.