Skin in the Game Pt. 01

She seemed to approach the screen door with a little swagger. There was some challenge in her step. I'm not sure who she thought to challenge? Me? Pat? Was she challenging herself? She stood behind the closed screen door, and put her hands on her hips.

"Jay Halliday," she said too softly for anyone else in the house to hear. "The man behind the scandal." She said it with a rhythm that made it rhyme; The MAN behind the SCAN-dal. I had the thought she'd been turning the phrase over in her mind for a while.

It took me by surprise. "Uh...Hi, Mrs. Walker," I said. "I..." She smiled at my discomfort, and the smile triggered my own confidence. "I thought you wouldn't be this happy to see me. My mom gave me the impression —"

"Your mother gave me some things to think about. I've thought about them." She opened the screen door. "I'm still thinking about it."

As I stepped in, I heard the king of the castle call from his throne in the den. "Who's there, Nora?"

She ignored the call, and stared me in the eye. It felt like she was scanning my brain, trying to get a measure of me.

I reached out and stroked her upper arm. "Thanks for agreeing to see me."

She twitched under my fingertips. It had been a long time since she'd felt a gentle touch. She held still, though, letting me stroke the length of her arm before dropping my hand to my hip.

"Nora! Who was that knocking?" Pat called with impatience. I could hear a hockey game running in the background.

She ignored her husband again, and broke eye contact with me. Her eyes ran down my body and back up to my face. "Well, so far, it's very good to see you." Then her mouth split into a warmer smile than you would expect. "We can discuss your handiwork in the dining —"

"Hey, I asked you...Oh! Hey, uhhhh, Jay! How ya doing?" Pat had struggled out of his chair, and walked through the kitchen into the living room where Nora and I were standing.

"I'm good. Sorry to interrupt your game," I lied.

"Uh, yeah. No problem. You like hockey? There's room on the couch for a fellow Rangers fan."

"No thanks," I said. "I'm here for Nora." I reached out and ran my hand down her spine.

Pat looked surprised at my gesture. He didn't know what to do.

She shivered again, and turned to smile at me. Surprise was in her eyes. But her tone was calm as she said, "That's right. Remember I told you yesterday that Leanne asked me to look over Jay's paper?"

"Uh," he grunted. "Yeah."

"Well he's here now so I can work it over with him."

"Yeah. My professor already saw it. So if we're going to improve things, Nora, we'll have to get down to the nitty gritty." I was locking onto her doe eyes as I spoke.

"I looked over the paper last night. It's going to take some hard work." We were freezing him out already, and I could hear him stepping away.

"Well I'm here to show you I'm up to the task. I have a really good feeling that working with you is going to be great."

She looked to the side with a downward glance and shrugged a shoulder. "We'll see."

"Well," Pat said, trying to reassert himself and retreat at the same time. "I'll just leave you two to it, then."

"Okay," Nora replied without looking away from me. She reached forward, and took my elbow. She slid her fingers down my forearm until she was holding my hand. "We'll get started in the dining room." I'd never realized that my forearm could be an erogenous zone.

We walked together to the dining room, where my paper was waiting at a corner. Pat headed to the den. I wasn't sure how much he could see or what was fair game with Nora, so I just squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, and pulled me towards my assigned seat. As she guided me towards the chair, she caressed my lower back. I thought she might try for my ass, so I held still. But she drifted away from me and took the other chair at the corner. She dragged the stack of papers to the shared table space, and looked at the lines I'd copied.

"So," she spoke softly. "What do you imagine happens now?"

I put my closer hand on the back of her chair, and brought the other hand to the table. I touched her wrist for two seconds and withdrew, Leaving it on the table next to hers. "Well, you said you're still thinking about things. I imagine we take some time to help you reach a conclusion."

"But you want me to reach a particular conclusion."

"Sure, but it's yours to make. If you decide it's better that I take my story and go —"

She moved her hand onto mine, but didn't speak.

I held my tongue, watching our fingers touch.

She turned her hazel eyes on me, and said, "I don't want you to go. Not yet, anyway."

"Good. What can I do so you'll keep me around a while longer?"

She seemed impressed by the question, but she withdrew her hand. Her gaze returned to the papers. "You've already stood next to me and helped me stand up to him more than I thought I could; just there, by the kitchen."

I smiled and inhaled. I was silent; determined not to be overbearing.

Her breath was shaking as she gathered the thoughts and words and oxygen to speak them. "I don't know how far I want to go. I'm not sure how much I want to do. I don't think I'm ready for him to walk in here and find us holding hands."

"Okay," I said. I leaned back, retreated a few inches to give her room to breathe. But she grabbed my wrist. She shoved my hand under the table, and onto her thigh.

I squeezed it gently as a kind of thanks. I could feel her soft flesh through the fabric of her summer dress.

She shifted her knees towards me to ensure I'd keep my hold.

We both smiled, and stared at the paper.

"So, maybe we talk a little bit about this story you wrote," she offered, running her fingertips up and down the forearm I kept under the table.

I squeezed at her thigh again in appreciation.

"It's not actually my story," I confessed. "It was written by a guy named Donovan, from my high school swim team."

"Well, he's a competent writer. I'll grant him that. For simplicity let's treat it as your work? Your name is on it, after all."

"Okay."

"It seems to be a theme near and dear to your heart." Don's story is about a young guy who seduces his neighbor. They don't live in a cul-de-sac like us. Their houses are back to back; splitting the shared lawn between them."

I moved my hand down the skirt of her dress, so I was cupping her bare knee. "Does that theme bother you?"

"It used to."

"Not anymore?"

"I started to soften on the idea a few days ago, talking to some of my neighbors."

I slid my hand up her dress to her mid-thigh. I stopped when she made a soft gasp.

Pat screamed a complaint about a blind ref, and the crowd could be heard booing on the television two rooms away.

"Have you softened enough to discuss it? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

She looked me in the eye, and said, "It's growing on me." She grabbed my elbow and pulled so my hand reached her bare upper thigh. I reached for her panties, but her hand gripped my elbow harder. Small steps. I held and massaged the portion of thigh I'd been granted.

She looked to the paper, and turned to the second page. She drew an invisible squiggle down the center of the text, not addressing any passage in particular.

"You have some questions," I said. I squeezed at her thigh in a way that would draw her nether-lips open. She squeezed at my elbow, and then traced patterns on my bicep. "Ask anything you like."

The television crowd cheered two rooms away.

"Why me? Why now? Why did you come here while he is home?"

"You because you're a sexy woman." She chuckled in disbelief. "When I have a chance I'll prove it to you beyond any shadow of doubt."

"When?" She was challenging me again. I didn't back down. I looked her in the eye, smiled and shrugged. She released my elbow, and slid her hand onto my thigh. "And why now?"

I massaged and pulled gently at her thigh as I answered, "Now is when an opportunity arose. I couldn't believe you were all discussing my sex life. I saw that the sex was the thing that was keeping Betty and Francine quiet. I saw that maybe...just maybe I could find a similar way to seal your lips."

She smiled, and moistened her lips in a subconscious gesture. I saw her blink in realization of what she'd done. Then she blushed and looked away, but her hand retained its firm grip on my thigh. I felt her squeeze at my leg, and I squeezed back at hers.

I was getting hard, but it was tucked down the other pant leg, so she couldn't feel it. I considered shifting it; giving her a handful to drive her thinking my way. But there was no natural way to do it, and I didn't want to remove my hand from under her skirt.

"And why come to me while he's home? What are you trying to prove?"

"I want to prove that your husband's bullshit gambit is a terrible mistake."

"What gambit?"

"That he can bluster and bully you and brainwash you into letting him fuck around, and that you'll never find anything for yourself...just because he says you can't."

She winced.

"It's bullshit, Nora, and it's a huge mistake on his part."

I felt her nails digging into the leg of my pants. "Why would you want or need to prove that to yourself?"

"I don't need to prove it to myself. I've known him for a fool since I understood his game."

"Him? You want to show him you're a big man who can do his wife better?"

"No, Nora. None of this is for him or my ego."

She just blinked at me, and her eyes threatened tears.

I wiped her cheek with my free hand. (I wasn't going to let that slender thigh go unless she told me to.) "I want to prove it to you. I want you to know it for a natural real-world fact."

Her voice creaked out like a door needing oil, "Why?"

"Because I sense that it's exactly what you need. Also, because I want you like crazy. You're sexy as Hell, and I'm like a caged animal looking at freedom when I'm looking at your gorgeous face; your svelte tight little body."

Nora smiled at the second part of my explanation and asked what I meant about sensing what she needed.

So I spent a little while talking about my thinking; how I put together what I think someone needs. I don't just assume I'm right, though. I try it out, and gauge the response. It touched her when I talked about what I saw in her and wanted for her. I had started stroking her outer thigh with my free hand, and she'd reached across my lap to find my cock swollen in the other pant leg.

She stroked me through my jeans. I traced hopeful shapes against the gusset of her panties.

[Leanne couldn't help remembering her own fingers tracing her own gusset upstairs an hour or so ago. Jason's story and the memory stirred heat and moisture inside her.]

Pat growled at what a bum one of the players was.

Nora squeezed my cock hard, and called out, "Pat! We can't concentrate with that television blaring."

She let go of my groin, and stood. I could hear Pat struggling to get out of his chair. They met in the kitchen. I came up behind Nora (a nice view! Her ass looked juicy, and her legs stuck straight and lean from the hem of the summer dress.)

Pat said, "You two go talk about his story at the library or something. I'm watching my game."

"We're getting into pretty private stuff, and I won't ask Jay to get into it out in a public place."

My dick throbbed at the idea of getting into Nora's pretty private stuff. Watching her stand up to him like that was a huge turn on.

"Why don't you go to Stuckie's Bar?" I offered. "They've got the game on there."

"Yeah. Go to Stuckie's Bar Pat."

His eyes popped a bit. He thought he'd been given an opening to take a shot. "You want me to go to Stuckie's?" He glanced at me then back at his wife. "You know what sort of thing I might get up to over there."

She shrugged. "I want to work this thing out with Jay here, and I want him to be able to really concentrate. I don't want him distracted by you and the game. We are going to need his complete focus."

"So you want me to go to Stuckie's?"

"Go on, Pat. Enjoy the game. Jay and I will be just fine here."

"Yeah, don't worry, Pat," I said. Then I put my arm around her back, and rested my palm on her round hip. She shivered under my touch, but didn't shy away. "I've got my work cut out for me here, and I can't do it without Nora." His eyes really popped then. It finally hit home what was happening; what was going to happen.

"Nora?" he said. His tone was question and warning in one.

"Go on to Stuckie's Bar, Pat."

The Pig turned to me, and said, "I need a word alone with my wife."

She turned towards me, and seemed to snuggle into my embrace. "Go on. Look over the text, and think about where you want to begin."

I headed back to the living room table, and sat as still as I could; hoping to catch their conversation. I was ready to act if Pat got violent.

I couldn't hear exactly what was said, but Nora relayed it to me a few hours later.

It went something like this:

Pig: You're really doing this, Nora?

Nora: I don't know what you're talking about. What do you think I'm going to do that would need any further clearance from you? What line do you expect me to cross that you haven't erased...obliterated!...months ago?

P: I never brought a woman home.

N: Exactly. You went to their homes. Now Jay has come to this woman's home.

P: That's not how the agreement works, and you —

N: There was never an agreement. You started sniffing around other women in a unilateral move. You told me to like it. "Get with the program or leave it." You didn't ask for rules. You didn't ask for any kind of agreement. You decided a man's place is in another woman's bed. So go on to Stuckie's Bar, and we'll see which man ends up in which woman's bed.

P: I can't believe you've sunk to picking up neighborhood kids.

N: I didn't pick him up. He saw opportunity, and he came knocking. He came to me. And if half the rumors I've heard are true, he can make more than the door rattle.

P: You're gonna go ahead with this because of some rumors?

N: No. I haven't decided what I'm going to do. But if I do decide to let Jay Halliday confirm the rumors about his manhood, I'll be sure to tell you all about it when you get home.

P: Nora —

N: And of course I'm not doing this because of some rumors. I'm doing it because...you know what? You go on to Stuckie's Bar and think on it. See if you can begin to understand what you might have done to let Jay think he could get a taste of my pussy. See if you can understand how you might have left me willing...eager to give him more than just a taste. Go on!

She said that last part loud enough so that I would hear her! It was epic! Why are you laughing? I told you, yes, she used that word. Why would you think she didn't like the word "pussy?" No, I don't want to never-mind. Promise you'll tell me later? Okay. Where was I?

Do you remember, Mom, how you used to tell me that bullies are cowards? Well, in high school I learned that that's only true some of the time. Some bullies will fight like wild animals.

But Pat was the cowardly type of bully. He got into his car and barreled out of the driveway. I assume he went to Stuckie's, but I had my hands too full to worry about it.

Nora stood there in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, leaning against the side. She watched her husband flee, so her back was to me. She looked positively lovely; her slender frame was silhouetted by the light coming in from the kitchen window. The summer dress was translucent enough to see the delectable body beneath.

That was the decisive moment that Pat helped Nora make up her mind. He could have stayed and acknowledged his mistake. He could have made apologies. He could have tried to make things right between them.

But he fled. So Nora's mind was made up.

She turned her head, so I could see her profile. "Have you thought about where you would like to begin?"

I had. "If I'm going to taste your pussy, those panties will have to go first."

She took a moment to smile and appreciate my answer. "Come take them off me, then. I want you to do it."

I made myself walk to her slowly. It was as much to tease myself as her.

I put my hands on her hips, and stood close enough that she could feel my breath on her neck. I could hear her breath coming and going in shudders, as if she was cold. I wondered for a moment whether it was because she was angry at him, or excited about what we were about to do.

I decided it was better not to ask. I ran my hands down the dress, caressing the sides of her legs through it. When I got to the hem, I didn't hesitate to run my hands back up along her bare thighs. I gripped her panties. They felt rough and lacy against my fingertips. I suppose it's possible she always wears fancy underwear, but I like to think she had me in mind when she put those on.

I eased them down. I relished every centimeter of her legs as I descended.

As I stood, she turned to me and spoke, "That's a good beginning, Jay. Now go back to your seat, please."

She'd told me exactly what she needed, so I did as she asked.

She followed me to my seat, and wedged herself to stand between me and the table. She straddled me -- letting her soft exposed pussy rub against my rough jeans -- and kissed me. It started slow and sensual, but built quickly. She stuck her tongue into my mouth (which I welcomed,) and I could hear her sucking and blowing through her nose. She moaned into my mouth and ran her fingers through my hair. It seemed like the moans were falling out of her, rather than bursting. She was dropping a heavy burden, and she groaned in relief to finally get what she needed: to be put first.

After a good long while she stood. Her legs wobbled, but not for long.

She hopped back onto the table, and lifted her skirt. She keeps her pubic hair trimmed in the shape of a modest patch; not a landing strip like Betty. It was like a private garden she had invited me to explore. I felt a rush of gratitude as she exposed herself to me this way. Her willing vulnerability put me in awe.

She leaned back, and asked, "You're sure you want to taste me?"

"I'm fucking sure as death and taxes."

She held up a finger between my mouth and her drooling labia. "One thing, though. There was something Betty told us you said when you were with her. You said that you were worried that you might not manage to satisfy her. Are you worried about that with me?"

It was hard to think straight, but I answered, "Well, I guess I'm a little more confident than I was, considering how much she enjoyed it."

"She says you promised to make her cum with your fingers -- three times -- before you'd take your cock out. She says you kept that promise. Was that true?"

"Yes. I did promise that, and I did keep that promise. Then I took my clothes off and we fucked like crazy until we had to stop."

"Until your mom showed up and made you stop."

"Yes." I could smell her sex. I was desperate to taste her. The questions drove me wild.

"I want that; what you promised and did with Betty. Three times before you show me that salami I felt in your pant leg. Then I want you to fuck me like crazy." She paused and smiled down at me. "And I have your mother's word; she's not going to show up to stop us." I was shaking so hard, I could barely stand it. "Three times -- with your hands...and your mouth if you really want to taste me -- then we take your cock out and see what more you can do with me."

"Yes." I wanted to shout, but it came out in a whisper.

"Lick me, Jay. Eat my pussy. Touch me."

I leaned close and blew gently on her genitalia. I've got my pride after all.

"PLEASE!" she cried.

That was what I wanted.

I grabbed her ass with both hands, and descended my face into her groin. She spread her legs as I got close. My first meal at the Walker dining room table was served up fresh, moist and piping hot. I ran the tip of my tongue up and down her labia and teased her vagina by circling the entrance.