Running to Stand Still Ch. 2

Sitting at his desk at the insurance company he'd worked at for the past four years, Mark could still feel his groin tingle with the explosive residue of what he had put himself through the night before. Even though he was only pushing 30, he couldn't remember the last time he had came twice in one night. Truth be told, Mark proudly bragged to himself that he could have made it three times if he had been brave enough to wake his wife up for another go around.

As he drowsily went about filling out some paperwork at a few minutes after 10 in the morning, Mark couldn't resist looking up every few minutes to check out the seated figure of Geneva Switzer across the office, the sultry young secretary that had played such a prominent role in his fantasies of the night before, as she talked on the phone to a customer who had a claim.

The carnal images that swirled inside Mark's head as he relived the night before all came back to him as he tapped his pencil on the table, totally unaware that he was drooling slightly as he gazed longingly at the young blonde 20 feet away.

"MMMM...MMM...MMMMM," Mark hummed to himself as he traced the line of Geneva's white stocking clad leg.

Starting at her sexy spaghetti strapped high heel , Mark felt his dick suddenly come to life when he focused on the gold bracelet encircling the exotic young woman's ankle.

Inching his gaze upwards slowly, Mark followed the contours of Geneva's calf muscles closely as she sat with her legs crossed, all the way up over her knees until the sight of her slim thighs eventually gave way to the tight maroon miniskirt she was wearing.

As he sat there transfixed by the 22 year old, Mark had a few more indecent thoughts, imagining his wife Sherry on her knees, under Geneva's desk, going to town between the tall blonde's parted legs while Geneva continued casually talking on the phone to a client.

"OOHH...YYYEEAAHH," Mark started to breath out loud, gripping the pencil in his sweaty hands tightly. As he started to lean forward to get an even closer look at the beautiful scene he was imagining, Mark suddenly froze as if he had been shot. Someone had just tapped him on the back from behind.

"Hugghhhhwhaewhawhawhahuh," Mark coughed, feeling as if he had swallowed his tongue from the unexpected surprise.

Looking over his shoulder, Mark saw the scolding librarian-like specter of the oldest woman at the firm, Bernadette Collins staring down at him disappointedly. Mark instantly could tell from Bernadette's all knowing hazel eyes that she knew exactly what the young man was sheepishly gawking at before she had interrupted.

"UUHH...Hi Bernadette...uhhh...what's up...I didn't know you were back there," Mark groaned weakly, temporarily reverting back to being a 12 year old, busted for cutting up in class.

"Ears don't work when the eyes are on overdrive Markus," Bernadette scolded cheerfully.

"I...ahhh...," Mark stammered once again, shifting his body all the way around so that he could face the matronly older woman.

"Shut up, Son," Bernadette grinned, absolutely loving the way the younger man squirmed. "How does Sherry ever control you?"

"Anyway...here are those Galvaston reports you asked for," Bernadette offered, suddenly shifting into business mode.

"Thanks Bernie," Mark shot back sarcastically in response to the earlier "Markus" crack.

"FYI Mark...Layne and I are having our big barbeque next Saturday up at the ranch...you know both you and Sherry are more than invited to come," Sherry offered jovially.

"Thanks B.," Mark replied to his immaculately dressed 58 year old co-worker." We'll see...Sherry might be out of town that weekend with the track team...I'll ask her though."

As soon as Bernadette Collins's offered registered in Mark's brain, he instantly started to processing all the assorted and tawdry gossip that he had heard about the older couple.

The Collins' , word had it, had founded one of Houston's first swing clubs nearly 30 years earlier. Although Bernadette did a masterful job keeping her personal life separate from her work, there was a clear sense that she never missed a chance to do some subtle 'recruiting' whenever she could.

"So you will tell Sherry about the barbeque Hon," Bernadette grinned slyly.

"I will," Mark once again assured with a half baked and blushing smile.

"B...why don't you go over and see if Geneva would be interested in going to your BBQ...you know it would be the polite thing to do to invite the new girl," Mark shot back wryly.

Bernadette Collins pulled back slightly and looked over at the pretty young blonde answering the company's telephones.

"Well...I think I will," Bernadette said excitedly as she drifted across the office floor towards the unsuspecting secretary's desk.

* * * * *

Mark Mitchum sat on his sofa, lazily reading Tuesday's newspaper and winding down from a long day at work. Licking his lips, Mark realized he was dying for a cold beer as he scanned the headlines, looking for anything interesting to read.

Just as he was about to jump up off the couch and run into the kitchen for a Bud, a startling vision captured his attention on page 4 of the sports section.

There was a small 3 paragraph story on the side of the page with a headline that read, "LONG TIME RICE TRACK COACH MONROE TO STEP DOWN AT END OF SEASON".

"That's Sherry's boss," Mark mouthed to himself, for the moment forgetting about his dry mouth.

Mark read the article through three times, digesting the gist of it. His first gut reaction was that his wife, even though only 28, might have a chance to get promoted to the head job after her six years of diligent service under her own college coach and mentor, Gloria Monroe. Mark knew there was an older male coach on the staff, Melvin Denson, but he had transferred in from another school and wasn't even close in seniority to Sherry. Besides that, it was pretty well known around the athletic department that very few of the athletes or the administration liked Denson all that much and the school could face mass transfers if he was promoted to head coach.

"She's really got a shot at this thing," Mark beamed to himself, feeling a distinct jolt of pride thinking that his wife might get a prestigious head job at a Division 1 school before she had even turned 30.

Twenty minutes later, after Mark had gotten up to get himself a beer as well as put a bottle of stored champagne on ice to celebrate Sherry's potential opportunity, Mark heard a car door slam out in the driveway signaling that his wife was finally home from work.

The moment Mark laid eyes on his wife lugging her work gear and backpack through the front door, he immediately saw the twinkle in her soft brown eyes. Usually, all Sherry could muster was bleary eyed fatigue after running her charges through their paces in practice, but that afternoon, her gaze was full of imminent optimism.

"Did you hear?" Sherry quickly blurted out as soon as she spotted Mark coming down the hall to meet her.

"About Coach Monroe...yeah ...I just saw it in the paper Darling...are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Mark beamed as he closed in on Sherry to give her a great big hug.

Dropping her gear to the floor with a thud, Sherry returned Mark's embrace, both sensing that the night ahead would be special.

"I've got some champagne chilling Honey...to celebrate," Mark whispered into his wife's ear.

"Well let's not count our chickens just yet Mark...they could go and give old man Denson the job...he's got a few connections and he's got tons more experience," Sherry reasoned, trying to calm her husband's glee.

"Yeah Honey...but everybody hates his guts...half the team would transfer if he got the gig," Mark shot back.

"They could always bring in another coach from somewhere else too you know," Sherry added, clearly trying not to get her hopes up too much. "Women...much less a woman under 30 like me just don't get these types of chances."

"Well...lets not worry about that right now...dinner's on me...lets go out to that new ritzy Chinese place downtown...the champagne should be nice and chilled by the time we get back," Mark offered with a clear twinkle in his own eyes as well.

* * * * *

Over dinner at the restaurant, Sherry relayed the course of events, describing how she and the team had been called into Coach Monroe's office and told the news before it was made public. Sherry told Mark that there was going to be a hastily organized dinner at one of the finer Houston hotels in a week or so for everyone to come and show Gloria Monroe their appreciation before the team's final track meet that weekend.

During the course of the dinner conversation, Mark was able to remember to tell Sherry about Bernadette Collins's BBQ offer up at her family's ranch but when Sherry said it would overlap the last track meet of the season, the thought of going to the Collins's party was quickly shelved.

* * * * *

Mark sat on the side of the bed slipping on his dress shoes while he playfully watched his beautiful wife dart back and forth between the bedroom and bathroom, tediously putting together her sultry black evening outfit.

"Dinner starts at 8 Hon...,"Mark subtly nudged his wife to pick up the pace, with a sly grin.

Being a young and hardworking couple, the opportunity to get dressed up and hit the town were all too few for the Mitchums. After seeing his wife in nothing but her sweats, warm-up gear, tee-shirts and cotton nighties 99% of the time, Mark shook his head like an awestruck lottery winner as the vision of his wife gliding across the bedroom floor in a black miniskirt, matching glittery blouse and sheer black stockings mesmerized his brain.

"Do I look OK Mark?" Sherry asked as she applied her lipstick and teased her hair.

"Like your gonna be the sexiest woman there," Mark answered, without missing a beat.

Looking back at her husband, Sherry's heart pitter-patted as his honest words registered.

"So you're sure I look OK?" Sherry asked once again with a coy smile.

"Stop staring at yourself in the mirror Sherry...I didn't say you looked THAT good...come on...hurry up...we gotta go," Mark laughed, feeling his insides tingle watching Sherry slip her feet into her chic and dainty high heels.

* * * * *

Sitting behind his plate of cold pheasant and glass of iced tea, Mark as patiently as he could, tried keeping himself from falling asleep as the dinner banquet for the departing coach wore on and on. The only thing that kept his attention was the fact that every male eye in the room was latched on to his wife Sherry, in her sexy tight black outfit.

Having volunteered to be the designated driver for Sherry so that she could fully enjoy the celebration of the evening, Mark sat back quietly and didn't say much. The cocky glee however that his eyes radiated made it abundantly clear that he knew, at the end of the night, he was taking home the woman every other guy there wanted.

Just the sheer fun of watching the litany of men, ranging from the older professors and school administrators to the husbands of Sherry's female friends stare at how inviting his wife looked in her clingy black evening dress gave Mark an injection of virile pride.

As he continued to let his eyes roam about the room, Mark could even see the well dressed members of Sherry's track team stare at their coach with more than lurid fascination as Sherry walked to the podium to give her brief speech, thanking Coach Monroe for all she'd done for her.

So bored, Mark had even convinced himself that several of the women in the audience, including Coach Monroe herself, were looking at Sherry with more than normal feminine jealousy or appreciation when their gazes shot her way.

"Wonder what Sherry'd have to do to get a good recommendation from the old coach to get the promotion?" Mark wondered to himself.

"SHUT UP," another intern voice suddenly chimed in, causing him to blush from his own embarrassment. "You are getting sick," it warned him.

* * * * *

Turning the key to start the couple's old, beat up Volvo, a sober Mark Mitchum looked over at his wife in the passenger seat and the thought of at least 10 or 11 different things he wanted to do to her sexually when he got her home raced through his mind.

Shifting the car into reverse so that he could back out of the tight parking space and get on the road home, Mark prayed to the God of Lust deep within his groin that he could get Sherry home before all the wine she had drank caused her to pass out.

Weaving his car in and out of the sparse late evening traffic, Mark vividly replayed the glances, stares and longing hungry looks that all the men at the banquet had heaped upon Sherry during the course of the evening. Mark proudly looked in the rearview mirror and smiled to himself at the fact that he was the lucky guy taking home the sultry, drunk vixen that everyone else would be fantasizing about that night.

Mark laughed a little to himself at the thought of calling his wife a 'drunk vixen' when 99.9% of the time she was a model 'lady' out in public. As Mark sped homeward, he fully (and happily) grasped the knowledge that this was one of those other .1% nights.

Looking over at the way Sherry's chestnut brown hair danced as she drunkenly nodded her head to the song on the radio, Mark couldn't help but think of how much she looked like Jamie Lee Curtis riding beside him.

Turning his gaze back to the road, a few moments later, Mark's attention was grabbed by his wife's shrill girlish laughter drowning out the sound of the radio.

Looking back over to his right, Mark grinded his teeth trying to determine the cause of Sherry's hyena-like cackling. Seeing she was laughing at some sort of personal 'inside' joke, Mark decided he wasn't curious enough to ask her what it was about and continued driving on through the night.

As grating as the sound of his wife's drunken giggling was, it still wasn't bad enough to take away from just how desirable she looked nestled there beside him, her compact schoolgirl features tucked sexily into the dark black miniskirt and glittery blouse that accentuated her taunt body flawlessly.

Trying his best to keep one eye on the road, Mark couldn't help stealing a few glances at the way Sherry's legs intertwined in the floorboard, wrapped together like two elegant white limbs inside of sheer black nylon.

Mark's dick started to push up against the fabric of his dress slacks as his gaze traced down to the gloriously arousing sight of Sherry's right foot seductively bouncing up and down in the air on top of her left calf. He had learned over the years that subtle rocking motion of her foot was a clear sign that his wife's aroused passion was flowing freely.

Goosebumps welled up all over Mark's warm flesh as he brazenly watched the dark black stockings on Sherry's legs rub together until he could almost taste the silky material in his mouth.

Tapping the gas pedal harder, Mark rushed the car up to 75mph in a desperate attempt to get Sherry home while she still was awake. There seemed to be a streaming live video feed inside his head, replaying the course of the evening and all the hungry and wanton stares he quietly watched Sherry receive from young eyes as well as old.

Mark chuckled with pride remembering the look on the athletic director's face as he stared at Sherry's muscular legs as she made her way up to the podium to give her brief speech. Mark also recalled, with crystal clarity, the drooling expression several of the football coaches had, openly sizing up Sherry as if she was a piece of raw sexual meat, drunkenly weaving back and forth as she walked around the dining room.

Mark's pleasant 'chest-thumping' stroll down memory lane was momentarily interrupted however when Sherry let loose with another one of her random, tipsy outbursts of laughter.

"What in the world are you laughing about?" Mark finally asked, no longer able to contain his curiosity. Looking at his wife, waiting for an answer, Mark couldn't help but notice how flushed Sherry's pale cheeks had become and then as his gaze lowered, the unmistakable ridges of both of his wife's erect nipples poking out the front of her blouse like two olives caused his spine to shiver.

"I can't...I can't tell ya Mark...you'd kill me," Sherry finally replied, covering her mouth with her hand, trying to contain her giddy belly laughs.

Mark sat there driving, his curiosity now tweaked. Biting his lip so that he wouldn't say anything stupid, he let an awkward silence grow between the two until he knew Sherry would feel compelled to continue blabbing her story. Mark shot a series of curious glances over to Sherry's dizzy eyes, subliminally trying to urge his wife to open up even more.

Reaching down to gently squeeze his crotch as he watched Sherry shift nervously beside him, over a half dozen different scenarios bubbled in the cauldron of Mark's aroused mind. Feeling his anxiety building, Mark could feel his patience waning and asked Sherry once again with all the subtly of a teenage boy doing phone sex for the first time. "What is it, Sherry?"

"Ummmm...hhuummm...I just can't Mark... you'd think I was crazy...never mind," Sherry sighed, her voice fading out as if she was drifting to sleep.

It was then Mark started to seriously question whether or not he was going to be able to get Sherry home, and undressed, in time to get his rocks off before she blacked out.

Frustratingly tracing the erect rim of his cockhead with his left index and middle fingers, Mark could feel the blood boiling in his viens as he begged God to force Sherry to spill her secret, knowing it would be completly forgotten when she woke up with a hangover the next morning.

"I just can't believe the way they were looking at me," Sherry finally blurted out 20 seconds later, as if the words had minds and wings of their own.

"Hummm," Mark greased the skids, trying to calmly egg his wife to continue her story. "Who ...was looking at you Sherry?"

"The track guys," Sherry mumbled a few moments later, sending a speeding jolt of electricity right to Mark's core.

"Wha...wha...wha," Mark mouthed as if someone had smacked him in the face. "Did she just say what I thought she said?" Mark asked himself.

Looking over at Sherry, Mark could see she was now blushing even redder and that her succulent nipples were now even more aroused as she held her head in her hand, conveying embarrassment.

"They were looking...at you," Mark politely interrogated.

"Like I was some kinda dirty magazine picture," Sherry drunkenly blathered, in a combination of sobs and giggles.

"Aaahh...really?" Mark replied, feeling his cock on the verge of bursting free from his pants.

" I could feel all their eyes on me like they were stripping me, Honey," Sherry continued, now flailing her arms in the air like to show her cartoonish emotion in the passenger seat.

Alternating his eyes between the road and his drunk wife, Mark started to get the feeling he couldn't control himself any longer. He clearly sensed his wife's arousal and he was quickly losing the ability to subdue his own.

Trying to muster the courage to move his right hand over to Sherry, to make a play for her right then and there, Mark listened intently for her to add any further details.

"You must have been imagining that Darling...they probably just weren't use to seeing you dressed like that," Mark offered, trying to keep the course of the conversation flowing.

"Honey...a woman knows when they are being checked out. I felt naked out there," Sherry cooed, allowing the alcohol to free up her mental restraints.

With the Volvo already on cruise control, Mark felt an eerie sense that his body was as well. He extended his right arm out until his fingers came to rest on the back of Sherry's neck, right on that scant patch of skin that her brown hair or blouse didn't cover.