Restless Ch. 02byspence5969©
Note: Once again, if you do not like stories about voyeurism, extramarital sex and the like, you should move on to a different story. Second of a series of stories.
Chapter Two. Definition.
As the months rolled on, Bridgett continued to test me. At least it seemed that way to me. It wasn't until much later that I would discover that it wasn't a test at all, it wasn't something she was doing consciously. However, I could feel the pressure building inside me. Something had to give. It did.
At the next fund-raiser for her company, there were no scenes presented. Instead, it was a wine and cheese tasting evening. It took place in a hall adjacent to the small theater where they performed. A DJ played music and people danced and schmoozed. Bridgett looked incredible, wearing a long gown made of thin jersey material, it hugged her every curve. Cut extremely low in the front and back, the V-neck reached to her stomach, framing her breasts perfectly, which managed to barely peek out from underneath the clingy material. It had a long slit up her left leg as well, ending on her upper thigh. Needless to say, she was getting her fair share of attention.
And I was dealing with it. Barely, but I was. I don't know what happened, maybe she could sense my boiling point being reached, or maybe a part of her was looking for reassurance herself, but after about an hour of talking and dancing, Bridgett made her way back to me. Not to say that I had spent all that time staring at her. I mingled. I talked. I got to know a few of the members of the company. But I never spent a great deal of time with any one particular person. Neither did Bridgett, for that matter, although she did continually manage to end up next to Rick.
As I was saying, she made her way over to me. She had danced with several of the guys there, and had flitted from group to group. Now, as she came up to me, she kissed me, sensuously, on the neck. "Having a good time?" she asked.
"Uh uhm." She started swaying to the music, her pelvis grinding into my hip. "Wanna dance?"
I led her to the dance floor, where we stayed for the next half-hour or so, before making our way over to the bar for something to wet our dry throats. As we were standing there, sipping our drinks, I could tell that her attention kept wandering. I tried to figure out what she was looking at, but not until I repositioned myself did I catch a glimpse of what had her so preoccupied. Rick. Sitting by himself, watching everyone else dance.
"He's so shy," she murmured.
I spluttered my drink. "Him?"
"Of course. Can't you see? Sitting by himself, watching everyone else having a good time."
All of a sudden I became very calm. I realized I was trying not to explode, and something inside me put a damper on my anger. I've heard people use the term, "dead calm", and that seems about right for what was going on inside me at that moment. I needed to find out some things. About her, about myself. I nodded and then said in a very non-chalant voice, "Why don't you ask him to dance?"
I could see her struggle not to get too excited, although it wasn't too much of a struggle. "You wouldn't mind? Really?"
I kissed her. "Really. Go on. I need to rest after that workout you just gave me." And that wasn't far from the truth. Always if we went dancing, she would dance two, perhaps three times as much as I did.
She smiled. "Okay. See you in a bit."
I watched as she walked over to him, although I tried not to seem like I was watching. He protested at first, then she took his hand and led him to the dance floor. As they got out there, I could see he truly was reticent about dancing. Then I understood why. He didn't know how. Bridgett overcame that by putting one of his hands on her waist, taking his other in hers, and putting her free hand on his shoulder. Then they swayed to the music. As she showed him the beat of the music, they broke apart, moving in time to the rhythym. I moved from vantage point to vantage point, trying to glimpse them through the throng of people on the dance floor. I would lose sight of them for a moment, then pick them up again.
The music changed, turning to a slow song. He held out his hands to her, and she came in close, placing her head on his chest, both her arms going around his neck, while his hands went to her lower back. As the music played, I could see his hands caressing her back, the top of her ass, playing along the line of where her gown dipped down. At times, she would raise her head, whispering something into his ear. As I was watching, Sergio, the director of the company approached me and started a conversation. For the life of me I can not tell you what that conversation was about. All I know was that when it was over, Bridgett and Rick were no longer on the dance floor.
Casually, I began a circuit of the room, unobtrusively looking in every nook and cranny for the two of them. I couldn't find them. Had they gone outside? It was pretty crowded, maybe I had simply missed them. I started another circuit. As I reached the far side of the room, the door to the kitchen swung open, and there they were. Bridgett was sitting on the stainless steel of the institutional counter, her legs spread slightly. The slit in her dress made it ride high, exposing almost her entire left leg. Rick was standing between her legs, one of his hands on the counter, the other on her left knee. Bridgett had a drink in one hand and her other was on his shoulder. They weren't doing anything, just chatting, her laughter floating out to the dance floor from time to time like the scent of a rose on a spring breeze.
It was their proximity. Him between her legs, touching her exposed leg. I didn't know it at the time, but I know it now, that was the moment I snapped. I had a choice to make at that moment: either I let my jealousy get the better of me, which would inevitably lead to a scene, and embarrassment for both Bridgett and I; or I just allowed my growing arousal to take over. I chose the latter.
I stood there for I don't know how long, catching glimpses of the two of them as the door opened, closed, was held open for a few moments. I watched his fingers tracing small circles on her thigh, her hand massaging his shoulder. Then the door closed and stayed that way for a short time. I went to the bar and had another drink. I needed to get my thoughts in order. The part of me which was jealous was deeply submerged. What was left in its place? I didn't know at the time. I would spend the next year figuring it out, and the next decade and a half exploring it fully. Looking back, I now know that this was the moment I started down a path from which there was no returning. A path which has led me to where I am today. Whether it is good or bad is not for me to judge. I just know that it is.
The night wore on. Elwood P. Dodd once said that that was a beautiful expression, and he was right. In his honor I will say it again: the night wore on. It wasn't long before Bridgett and Rick emerged from the kitchen, and went their separate ways. Bridgett and I danced some more, and she danced with several of the other people there, but not with Rick again. We chatted, together, and with others until the event began to wind down. Then we said our good-byes and exited into the brisk night. Just before we left, I noticed Rick and Bridgett off to one side, out of most people's line of sight. She glanced back to see if I was looking, smiling slightly when she saw I was. As he bent slightly to give her a kiss good-bye on the cheek, she turned her head, kissing him briefly on the lips. They looked at each other for a moment, before smiling, then she quickly briefly clasped his hand in hers and was heading towards me. It was October and after a very warm and humid summer, the nights were beginning to get a bit chilly, so I was unsure as to exactly the cause of her erect nipples. We had to walk up to the avenue in order to hail a cab, but it wasn't long before we were on our way home.
Bridgett was incredibly amorous that night, and adventurous as well, me bringing her to orgasm with my fingers in the back of the taxi on our way home. She had several orgasms, the first at about 18th Street and 10th Avenue, right around the corner from our apartment, the last, in the shower about two hours later. I know she saw me after she had kissed Rick, but neither of us brought it up. There didn't seem to be a point. I never mentioned to her that I had seen her and Rick talking in the kitchen, at least I didn't mention it to her for almost fifteen years. By that point in time I had totally forgotten about the incident myself, at least on the conscious level, and only remembered it as I struggled to discover why I was the way I am.
From that point on, our sex began to get wilder, more intense. Bridgett began to dress more daring, even to work. Plus, she was making friends, both at work, and in the theater company. It was no longer just us doing things together. Oh, we would, from time to time, but now there was just as frequently other people along with us: to the museum, the park, the zoo. She would also go out with just her friends occasionally, dancing or to the movies. Maybe for dinner or lunch. Not frequently, but sometimes. When she would go with her friends for drinks, or dancing, I would always ask if anything happened, and she would smile and say, "the usual." If I'd press the issue, she'd say, "Spence, come on," and smile, squeezing my hand.
That next summer, she even went out to the Hamptons to stay over a friend from work's beach house. I know they went out both Friday and Saturday night, but again, she said that nothing happened. That was the first time I thought she might not be telling me the whole truth, especially after the looks I got from the girls she went with the next time I saw them. Instead of getting upset, I used my imagination to turn me on, picturing in my mind's eye what had happened, and using it to arouse myself. But I'm getting ahead of myself.