Sealing the Deal

Author's Note: Going back to last year my goal has been to revisit several categories I haven't posted in for quite some time, and this is one of them. Although there are three characters involved in this story, it's really about a woman named Karma, and as advertised, she can be a bitch. LC68

"Jill, you awake?" Peter's voice, which she'd only dimly registered while in a semi doze, was followed by obnoxiously loud, rapid fire knocking.

"I am now," she muttered, then shouted. "I'm awake, God damn it!" When the knock sounded again.

The knob rattled and she could hear the exasperation in her husband's voice.

"Think you could let me in?"

"Why?" she remained under the sheet, staring up at the swirled pattern on the ceiling of the hotel room. "Is there another boring as fuck seminar you're going to try to drag me to?"

"I'm not going to talk to you through a door," Peter complained.

"Good, I can go back to sleep." Even though he couldn't see her, a smile played about her lips. "I don't plan on getting much the rest of the night."

There was silence from the other side, but Jill knew he hadn't walked away. He was standing there with that pissed off look on his face. Not just mad at her, but himself. A precious mix of impotent anger and self-loathing that Jill never tired of.

"Come on, Jill, let me in. It's not like I did anything wrong."

"You know damn well what you've been doing."

"Just let me in, yelling through the door is ridiculous!"

"What's the matter, afraid the people in the next rooms are going to hear your wife locked you out of the bedroom!?!" She shouted the last part, and could picture the scowl on his face. Not just the scowl, but he'd look around as if he'd be able to check and see if anyone had heard her.

"Your fault," she added. "For booking this cheap ass place," she sighed. "Trying to act like a hotshot while staying at the Marriot."

"This isn't a dump," he snapped. "It's a decent place. Will you just open the fucking door?"

"Ohh, he's swearing now," Jill taunted. "You mad, bro?"

"Jill," she could hear him trying to rein in his temper. "Please open the door, we need to talk."

"Fine, give me a minute!"

Jill drew her right leg up and kicked the sheet off. While Peter had gone to yet another networking event, she'd taken a long luxurious bath, soaking-and dozing-for close to two hours.

After taking a quick shower to rinse off, Jill had patted herself dry, then sat on the bed and applied her Epara mango butter and coconut oil skin cream to ensure she'd be soft, smooth, and smelling delicious for this evening's festivities.

So soft, smooth, and tasty she couldn't resist lying back on the bed and giving herself an orgasm. As always, Jill had brought along her multi-speed bullet and favorite vibe, but chose instead to use her fingers, taking her time teasing, stroking, and fingering herself to thoughts of someone not named Peter doing the same for her later.

After her deliberate slow build, her orgasm was a powerful one, and as she lay there with her heart pounding and her cunt still tingling, Jill was once again comfortably drowsy, and didn't bother to put anything on, just pulled the sheet up, dozing off to the silly, but frequent private joke of Jilling off being an appropriate term for her.

Between the long sleep, soak, orgasm and ensuing nap, Jill felt pleasantly sluggish, as if she had a sleep hangover. She stretched, straightening her legs, pushing her arms out over her head, and arching her back off the mattress.

She sighed contentedly as her muscles stretched and looked down at her long slender body. Jill's breasts weren't large, but more than a mouthful, closer to a good palmful, but even in her late thirties were still perky.

Sitting high and proud on her chest, and tipped with small rose shaded nipples that featured a slight, and what she felt, an adorable upturn, they were perfectly proportionate to her athletic build.

At just under five ten, Jill's legs went on for miles as the saying went and years of modeling before coming on to help Peter run their advertising business full time, had ensured she kept them looking good.

Her calves were well defined and her inner thighs supple and toned. Yoga and the gym had kept her small heart shaped ass taut and firm, barely a jiggle, even when she danced.

Likewise, her stomach, adorned with a silver rhinestone studded pendant was flat and hard, giving Jill a tight athletic body many girls in their early twenties would be envious of. A testament to hard work, and the desire to stay as sexy while married and pushing forty as she had in her youth.

After all, it's not like being married had taken her off the market, and one had to look their best, especially when she was in the mood for a much younger man. Her gaze ended at her feet, her toes tipped in electric blue, the same as her fingers, and a color that annoyed Peter who claimed it was too young for her.

But like most things about her appearance, Peter's real complaint was it gained attention from other men, attention she loved, and with the right guy would be happy to reciprocate.

Despite his protest, she'd slipped away from the conference to get a Mani-pedi, and facial at a local spa. Jill believed sexy was a head to toe experience, and put as much effort into her feet, skin, and hair as the rest of her body.

In addition to her soft smooth soles and bright polish, a silver ring adorned each of her middle toes, and a small colorful butterfly tattoo decorated the top of her right foot, a purple rose on her left.

The tattoos were another source of contention from her prig of a husband, but the ones on her feet were a minor annoyance compared to the large dragon inked onto her lower back.

Her 'tramp stamp' was done in vibrant reds, greens and blues, and the wings spread out from the side of its gaping fanged mouth, fanned across her back, curving over her ass.

A colorful bird was tattooed on the back of each shoulder, a Blue Jay on her right, a Cardinal on her left. The one that caused the most angst in Peter, however, was the one she'd gotten back in her college days when she worked as an exotic dancer to pay what her partial scholarship wouldn't cover.

Over her left hip were four playing cards, all aces. Beneath them in flowing script were the words "Every Man's Ace". Jill had to admit, she'd thought about covering it. It may have been hot, and appropriate for those days, especially considering she swung from a different kind of pole in the sleazy rooms backstage when the price was right.

But it was a bit much now, and easily visible when she wore a bikini. It was Peter's loathing of it and the extra scowl she received when she did wear a two piece at the beach or by a pool.

Petty as it was, that along with him still regularly bringing up her covering it, was why it was still there. Twelve years into their marriage and it still got him every time, meaning the admittedly slutty tattoo had its place in her life. Besides, it's not like it was entirely a lie. She wasn't 'every man's' ace, and no longer charged for sex, but she was active enough to not render the tat 'false advertising'.

"Well?" Peter said from the other side of the door, causing Jill to blink and shake her head.

"Sorry, I forgot you were there," she teased and rose from the bed.

Jill padded across the room, enjoying the feel of the soft carpet beneath her bare feet. The hotel wasn't bad at all, just something else to needle him about because he'd avoided the Omni where the convention was being held because even in her opinion it was overpriced, but she couldn't let him know that.

Not that money was the main reason that would be putting Jill in the same building with hundreds of men in town for the same event. Many of them single, many married but what the wife didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

A virtual buffet of potential adventure that her husband thought he was cleverly keeping her from. Jill caught sight of herself in the mirror and smiled at the way her small firm tits jiggled slightly and her long curly raven black hair flowed down the creamy skin of her back.

Jill had noticed a few strands of gray showing, but as obsessed as she was with her appearance, she'd left it alone, deciding that it was sexy in its own way, showing she was getting older, but still playing as hard as the kids did.

Added to the Milf mystique as well. No, she corrected herself, they had no children, which made her a cougar. But only if she went after a young one, so in the end only one term accurately described her.

Hot Wife.

Jill unlocked the door, but didn't open it, just turned the knob, and headed back to the bed. She heard the door open behind her.

"You could have...wow, look at you!"

"Look all you want," she put some extra swing in her hips, making her ass even more enticing. She reached the bed and turned around, giving him a full view of her body.

"Well," his eyes roamed hungrily over her, "We do have time before the signing. Maybe we could do a little something to settle our nerves."

"I already did that," she briefly placed two fingers on the neatly trimmed triangular patch of black hair over her pink slit. "Don't want to come to quick later on." She smiled. "I like them to work for it."

Peter's lips tightened and his blue eyes showed a quick flash of anger before he looked away from her.

"I have no reason to be nervous anyway. You're the hotshot who insisted on doing most of the talking in our two meetings with them. Playing big man while you're pretty wife just sat there looking good."

"If you say so yourself," he grunted.

"You know it's true, and you like it when it makes you look good. I was dressed professionally the last two nights and that dog Christian still kept looking at me."

"I saw that," he tried to look put off, and she laughed.

"And you liked it, because if it helps our business, you're fine with me being a distraction."

"You're right," he nodded. "There's times playing games can help, but that's different from the other games you play."

"Just I play games?" Having felt like she'd given him enough of a look, Jill plucked her short red robe from the bedpost and slipped it on. "You think I don't know what you've been up to the two nights we've been here?"

This time he met her gaze, but after a few seconds of her smoldering brown eyes boring into his, he looked down at his feet.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Can't even admit it, can you?"

"Admit what? We came out here to try and land a couple of new clients and we've been wooing a big fish. What game am I playing?"

"You've dragged me to every meeting, every seminar..."

"Its your company too!" He threw his hands in the air so dramatically, she had to struggle not to laugh at him.

"Until its time for me to speak, then you barely let me get two words out and cut me off."

"Because you're still learning how to pitch the clients, you work with the ad reps on the fashion, find the perfect model, help with the set designs. You're the one who makes the magic happen behind the scenes."

"None of that is worth mentioning in the meetings?" She snapped her fingers. "Oh, it is, by you. Why don't you just say, 'This is my wife, she just smiles and looks pretty, and if we see you looking she'll give you a few peeks down her blouse!"

"Stop it, it's not like that."

"Whatever, but not just keeping me busy during the day, the last two nights we went to dinner with Gabrielle and Christian, then drinks."

"That's how you woo them."

"Both nights you came up with some stupid detail we needed to work out and insisted we'd get it to them that night."

"It's important to show them we're all in and giving them as many options as possible."

"It is," she agreed, as she sat on the edge of the bed, then swung her legs up on it, watching him watch her as the move caused the robe to rise and give him a quick flash between her thighs.

"But I think it was even more important that you keep me busy until the pathetic little nightlife around here closed."

"We'd already gone out for food and a couple of drinks, what else did you want? Room service is all night here."

He put his hands up as if saying, "See?"

"You know what else I want, and you're doing the best you can to keep me from it."

"Really, Jill? The agency's been struggling. We're here to get more business so we can keep going. That's all I've been doing since we got here. Is it too much to ask that you think about something other than yourself?"

"Impressive indignation you have going on there," she tapped her ear. "Think I even detect a hint of martyrdom mixed in."

"You'd have to care what I say to hear that."

"Aww, now the butthurt," she laughed.

"Glad you think it's funny."

"It's more than funny, Peter," she flashed him the smirk she knew infuriated him. "It's inevitable."

He folded his arms over his chest, a way to stop him from running his fingers through his hair, his usual mannerism to express his frustration. But he'd already showered and done his hair.

Although older, Peter was still a pretty boy who spent more time in the mirror than many women she knew. Not a lock of his thick naturally wavy brown hair was out of place. Gelled and styled to the point it looked as if he fingered every curl into place.

Unlike her, he'd taken to shading in a little color to cover the grays that had crept in over the last few years. Same for his thin and impeccably trimmed beard. Peter was six feet and kept himself in good shape.

His stomach was getting a little soft as he closed in on fifty but still flat. His once piercing blue eyes had faded slightly but still gained compliments from women. Coupled with smooth, pretty features and a practiced high wattage smile, he was still easy on the eyes.

It wasn't his looks that were the reason for her lifestyle. Jill couldn't see herself staying monogamous with anyone. Life was too short, and you only had one to live. She was a beautiful sexual woman who lived to enjoy that sexuality any chance she could.

She'd played the field right from the start, plenty of sex, but never having a serious boyfriend in High school or college. Once she graduated, she began dating, but could never stay with one man too long, unless he was okay with sharing, and not many were.

Jill had told Peter not to expect her to be just his once they'd been dating for several weeks. He seemed to think she was kidding, but when she blatantly flirted with a bartender, then told Peter to head home because she planned on being last call, he broke up with her.

He was back a week later.

The next time it was two weeks and repeat for several months. But he always came back, and Jill found she did have feelings for him and in time the word love entered her mind for the first time in her life.

She could see herself sharing her life, and her heart with just him, but her body would remain a different story. On the one year anniversary of their first date, he proposed to her, but ruined the sweet moment by saying if she took the ring, she was promising to be his and his alone.

Jill said she would say yes to marrying him, but with an ultimatum of her own. He could have her as his wife, and have her heart, but only if he accepted the fact other men would have her body.

Peter put the ring back in his pocket, gave a dramatic speech about how there was no way that was real love, and lectured her about traditional marriage and 'values'. Jill shrugged him off by simply saying wasn't it better that she be honest rather than lie, then cheat behind his back?

He stormed off, but a month later proposed again, saying his change of heart was because he knew he could convince her to be a 'good woman and proper wife." Jill took the ring but was adamant she wasn't changing. He'd smiled and said challenge accepted.

He lost the challenge two months after their honeymoon when he'd come home to find her bent over their brand new kitchen table getting fucked by the young man who'd delivered it.

That was the first time he'd seen her having sex with another man, and in an instant, Jill saw more than just anger and betrayal in his eyes. There was something else, a quick flash of desire, and she knew his face flushing was from shame and not just rage.

Over the years he'd seen her with several men. She didn't do it often, feeling it ruined the effect, and wanted to keep it as a delicious little treat for herself, one she indulged in when he seriously pissed her off over something, usually another of his unending attempts to forbid her to be with other men.

Each time he protested and threatened to walk out, and Jill would say whatever and go at her lover as if he weren't there. Peter would end up staying, watching her with that look she loved. The mix of love and hate, both for her, and their relationship.

Not wanting to share, but helpless to stop her.

Jill had made concessions when he started his own agency, especially when he presented her with the title of vice president and assured her it was her company as much as his.

With money and reputation on the line, she stepped out less frequently and was far more discreet with where she met men, and not 'shitting where they ate' as far as clients or anyone at the agency. Even a convention like this, she wouldn't hook up with someone else attending, but find a bar or club to cast her bait.

Jill was aware it was part of the reason he made her his equal in the company, to slow down, and perhaps even stop her lifestyle, but she'd gone to school for fashion design and marketing and loved the industry, so it was a fair trade off.

But she would never stop completely, and every so often would go on a rampage of several lovers in a short period of time when she felt she needed to remind him who was in charge of her sex life, and it wasn't him.

Just like she always had, she'd dress up to get messed up, give him a sweet kiss goodbye, and leave. Jill would come home a few hours later, mascara a mess from choking herself on cock, her lipstick smeared, bra missing, and thong shoved in her purse. He'd always be up, no matter how late it was, and give her that hurt disgusted look, that she'd come to see as a last bit of afterglow to close out a great night.

But as angry as he made himself out to be, Jill had noticed, and made sure to point out, that the night after those nights, he always came looking for it, and she'd usually let him have her.

Let him, was the best way to describe it, she didn't participate much. He'd take her clothes off, kiss her, lay her back and suck her tits, and if she were in a good mood, or perhaps just feeling apathetic, she'd spread her legs so he could eat her.

She rarely came, and when she did it was because her mind had drifted to last night's lover and her imagining Peter tasting his cum as it oozed from her cunt. That was something she made him do when she really needed to give him a lesson.

On the other side, she would, when in good spirits, give him a minute or so of her mouth, any longer and he'd be begging her not to stop because he was already there. Most often, she'd either remain on her back, legs spread or sometimes give him the thrill of roll over onto her knees for him. That worked to her advantage as fucking her like that while staring at and playing with her ass, usually had him coming as fast as her mouth could.

Maybe he'd have more stamina if she gave it to him more often, but since he could never fuck her the way she wanted it, hard and nasty, she had little interest in putting out, only caving when it had been awhile, and she figured she owed him to do her wifely duties.

Peter was a lovemaker, he wanted slow and sweet, or if not sweet, he wasn't capable of dirty talk, nor able to take her the way she needed it. Jill had no desire to be made love to by him or anyone else.