That Green Dress Ch. 04

Lisa and I played on opposing teams in the first game while our spouses stood on the sidelines by Greg's desk. I don't think I ever learned the name of my teammate or Lisa's. Thankfully we were shooting better than I was earlier with Mark, Cindy, and Brian, so the game moved along.

I paid attention to the game at hand, but maintained a general awareness of Greg and Melissa, seldom allowing them out of my field of vision. They exchanged a lot of quiet comments and smiles as they stood there. At one point I saw that Greg had his arms crossed, and a moment later Melissa ducked to her side, away from him, and giggled. My guess was that he was playing the childish game of poking her with a finger from behind the opposite arm, so that no one could see what had happened. After that, Melissa crossed her arms, too, and soon enough it was Greg's turn to pull away from Melissa. She had poked him in his ribs.

Greg's friendly outpouring of feelings in the kitchen minutes ago, seemingly genuine, had mostly set my mind at ease with regard to the two of them. But there in the study, with them standing shoulder to shoulder and acting so playfully toward one another, an unsettling feeling descended upon me once more.

Then Melissa reached for her cup and raised it up to suggest Greg join her in a drink, causing Greg to reach for his cup and raise it up to accept. As he drank, she pushed the bottom of his cup upward, forcing him to gulp down more than he wanted. Those who saw it had a good laugh, and so did Melissa. Greg didn't think it was funny at first, but the laughter won him over, bringing a smile to his face.

"I'm already fucked up enough," I heard him say.

Melissa looked across the room to me and winked, and then I felt at ease again. She still had her eye on the prize, I decided. Melissa's eyes watched Lisa make her way around the pool table. I watched Lisa, too, thinking that I hadn't paid much attention to her all night. I had been too distracted by my wife's flirtations with Greg. As Lisa walked away from my side of the table, I dared to overtly watch her cute little ass beneath the white linen that flowed from her hips, knowing that Melissa probably saw me looking. From Lisa's ass, my gaze returned to Melissa's eyes, and sure enough, she was looking right back at me with a knowing smile. She raised her cup in my direction, and I raised mine to hers, and across the room from one another, we shared a toast to Lisa's cute little ass.

Over the course of a couple more games, Melissa, Lisa, Greg, and I all mixed with the other guests freely. Everyone was drunk, so all inhibitions were gone and names didn't matter anymore. We were all friends from the start. Melissa hung on Brian for a while. Literally hung on him. He is a few inches shorter than her, and she put her arm over his shoulder like a little brother, and the two of them engaged in a long conversation about something they both thought was really deep. I overheard her thanking him several times for the brownie, and at least once she said that she'll remember him forever. Seeing them side by side, I couldn't help but note that her eyes had become squinted like Brian's. That second brownie had definitely kicked in. She was really high. Thankfully there were no more bouts of motion sickness.

Later I couldn't help but laugh at Melissa because she hugged both Mark and Cindy several times while she was talking to them. I couldn't imagine what they could have said to make her feel that way.

It was much less funny to me, though, when she walked up to Greg and gave him an unsolicited hug, holding him tight and resting her head on his shoulder. When she lifted her head and peeled away to stand beside him and face the pool table again, each kept one arm around the other. Greg was plastered by that time, so his eyes certainly did not see that I was observing the two of them from across the room, and his mind probably gave me no thought. His hand remained at Melissa's waist for a few seconds after the hug, but then it plainly dropped lower and out of my sight, only to reappear at her waist again a second later. The movement didn't appear to even register with Melissa. Seconds later, Greg's hand slid out of view again, but this time it did not reappear. Not long after that, I detected some movement at Melissa's shoulder, indicating to me that she was rubbing Greg's back with her out-of-sight hand. She took a sip of her drink with the other hand without interrupting that back rub, and Greg took a sip of his drink at the same time, absentmindedly following her cue. Melissa set her cup aside, but was careful to keep herself abreast of Greg as she did it, immediately resuming the backrub afterward.

Without facing each other, the two of them exchanged a few words. Little comments on whatever, the results of which brought short-lived smiles to their faces. Melissa's face turned to Greg's to say some more words, which probably composed a question, and Greg's words, which probably composed an answer, gave Melissa a laugh. The laugh pulled Melissa's torso and far shoulder toward Greg, and it pulled Melissa's free hand to his chest in a playful slap, as if to scold him for saying something inappropriate. But that hand lingered, and then it rubbed lightly back and forth across Greg's chest, as if to apologize for initially approaching as a slap, before it dropped lower, to his flat belly, reluctant to depart his body.

The hand then slid to the far side of Greg's body to lead Melissa into a side-hug of Greg. With her body pressed against his from the side, Greg's hand was plainly visible to me on the lower part of her ass, his fingers and palm openly stroking her contours. Releasing him from her grasp, her hand drifted low across his belly, brushing against his belt buckle, as if to remind herself that it represented a physical boundary that cannot be crossed.

Seeing the two of them touch each other so familiarly again opened the debate on whether I can trust my wife or whether she will cheat if the opportunity arises. This time, though, I found the odds to be highly in favor of her cheating.

Soon more guests decided to call it a night. Rideshares and taxis were called and goodbyes were exchanged. Brian remained and was still going strong. He was extremely stoned, but his energy level was somehow higher. Mark and Cindy were there, too, although headed on divergent paths. Mark's face was reddened, his eyes unfocused, and he was showing himself to be a sloppy drunk. Cindy had been sobering up, probably with the expectation that she would eventually have to start taking care of Mark. Regardless, both showed no signs of departing.

"Who's up for more drinks?" asked Mark after another game of pool had finished.

"C'mon, buddy! Let me get that for you," replied Greg.

Pulling Melissa right along with him, his arm still around her waist, Greg approached Mark, put his other arm around Mark's shoulder, and guided him back to the kitchen. Somehow that worked as a signal for everyone to follow. I was on the heels of those three walking abreast. My eyes searched for the meaning of Melissa's left hand underneath the back of Greg's sports jacket, which concerned me more than Greg's right hand, which overtly shaped itself to fit the curve of Melissa's right ass cheek directly in front of me. Their intoxication was so great that they had forgotten I was there, or that I had eyes that could see them.

Lisa was the last to leave the study, and as she did, the lights flicked off behind us, a clear signal that the party was coming to a close. As I walked through the living room, those lights dimmed, as well. When I reached the dining room, the music from the stereo became somewhat quieter.

I wasn't in the mood for another drink, so I decided to sit at the dining table at the side farthest from the kitchen, against the wall. Entering from the living room, Lisa dimmed the lights in the dining room before coming to stand next to me and lean against the wall.

From there she and I both observed Greg on the far side of the island mixing drinks for Mark and Brian while Melissa hung close to him on his right. She was talking with Brian on the opposite side, and in doing so, leaned down far, arms folded, trapping them between her belly and the countertop, which had the effect of pushing her breasts upward, deepening the visual of her soft cleavage. Brian surely enjoyed the view as they spoke. And no doubt Greg enjoyed it, too, seeing my wife bent so far over the countertop. After Greg handed the finished drinks to Mark and Brian, he grabbed his own cup with his left hand and took a sip, which caused me to wonder what his right hand was doing.

Perhaps seeing what I was seeing, Lisa suddenly placed her left hand on my right shoulder and gave it a friendly rub. Was this a signal of what was to come? Was sex with me and Melissa some form of revenge for Lisa against Greg?

Being so drunk and high, Melissa was probably not even cognizant that I was in the room, so it felt safe to signal back to Lisa. I dropped my right arm down and brought my hand clandestinely to the inside of her left calf.

She allowed it, so I began stroking it. Lisa pulled herself away from the wall and took a half step forward, which provided a better angle for me to touch her there. My dick began hardening in my pants for the umpteenth time tonight. The naughtiness of what Lisa and I were doing in a room full of oblivious people, plus the feel of Lisa's body underneath my hand, was pure fuel for a fire. My hand boldly slid up the inside of her thigh, still below the level of the dining table's surface, so no one could see.

Was Greg currently taking advantage of the same principle? His right hand still had not come into view. Although, if anything was going on, Melissa's face revealed nothing.

From the right side of my field of view, I saw some movement that caught my attention. The front door had opened. A figure entered and then closed the door, and then ascended the stairs.

The hand on my shoulder gave me a sharp squeeze. I looked up to Lisa's face, and she stared down at mine, saying nothing. And that silent stare told me everything.

That figure was Chris. Chris and Lisa are going to fuck tonight. And Greg knows that there is something going on between them. I reviewed in my head the events of the night. When Chris arrived, Greg didn't seem too happy about it, and soon thereafter, he asked Lisa into the garage for a private talk. Somewhere along the line, he told Melissa that Chris is gay, probably to cover for any extraordinary attention that Chris and Lisa lay upon each other through the course of the night, and perhaps to stem any attraction that Melissa might have toward Chris. Chris was a direct threat to Greg. That tension led to Chris's earlier, quiet departure from the party, either because he was asked to leave or because he simply thought it would be better. In any case, he and Lisa planned for his return. Turning off the lights in the study may have been a signal not only to the guests that the party is over, but a signal to Chris that he can safely re-enter and go upstairs to wait for Lisa.

Lisa is going to fuck Chris tonight! And Melissa and I have been her unwitting accomplices, helping to get her husband drunk so that he would pass out and have no knowledge of it. Lisa can finally get fucked on that pool table, only Melissa and I won't be the ones fucking her, it will be Chris. Needless to say, I was helplessly jealous, and completely furious.

With Lisa still staring down at my face, my left hand slid up her thigh until my fingertips found the steamy fabric at her vaginal opening. I pushed my fingers sharply upward. The lips on her mouth parted, but otherwise she hid the shock of what I had done. Still she silently stared down at me, accepting my anger, indicating that she knew what I knew, and saying that she was sorry. But that silent apology wasn't enough for me. I withdrew my hand from her, leaned forward, and folded my arms upon the dining table. Lisa rubbed both my shoulders quickly, then leaned down to give me some sort of hug from behind, as if to thank me for my silence, which now equated to my complicity in her scheme to fuck Chris.

I was the only person who noticed Lisa leave the room and head upstairs. With her gone, my attention returned to my wife. She was talking to Cindy now and was no longer leaning over the island. Greg was supporting the weight of his upper body with both hands flat on the countertop. His eyes seemed to be rolling up into the back of his head as he listened to Brian talking about something from the law firm where they both worked. Mark stood there quietly between Brian and Cindy, sipping on his drink and listening to both conversations as they crisscrossed in front of him. I certainly didn't want to pick up a conversation with him. At that moment, the only person I wanted to talk to was Lisa. I needed to unload my anger upon her and make sure she understood that I did not accept that silent apology she had just given me. Before I could find myself forced into a drunken conversation with sloppy Mark, I ducked out of the room, walked through the living room, and approached the staircase. With my left hand on its railing, I looked back toward the dining area to see if anyone was to follow. "Too drunk to even notice," I thought.

I ran up the stairs. To the left, the door to the master bedroom was closed. I gave it a knock.

"Just a second!" responded Lisa. Nearly a minute later, the door opened to Lisa, now clad in a full set of pink flannel pajamas. Seeing that it was me standing there, she joined me in the hallway and closed the bedroom door behind her.

"You're pissed," she whispered.

"Obviously." I whispered right along with her. Of course our conversation was a very private one.

"Listen, I'm really sorry."

"I can't accept that that's true. You knew exactly what you were doing all night."

"You think I did something wrong?"

"Of course I do!"

"Tell me, what is it?"

"You schemed against me and Melissa, using us to help you fuck Chris behind Greg's back. And you teased me all fucking night."

"You're correct, but that doesn't mean you're on the side of righteousness. You've been scheming, too. You didn't tell Greg that you and your wife fucked me last month. And you and your wife have been willing participants in a scheme to fuck me again tonight behind his back. Do you think any of your scheming was right? If you do, you're a fucking hypocrite."

"You lied to me and Melissa."

"And you and Melissa lied to Greg. How can my lie be - objectively - any worse than yours?"

I had no available response.

"Listen, Mike, I'm not angry with you. Please, give it some thought. You're only pissed because of the disappointment that you're not going to fuck me tonight. And please try to see this from my perspective. The stars have to align perfectly for me to get a chance to be with Chris, and tonight is that night. You, Melissa, and I can still get together once in a while. It's just not going to be tonight."

We stood in silence for what seemed like minutes. Lisa's words repeated in my head. Soon I couldn't help but agree with everything she said. What Lisa didn't seem to know, though, was that her words had implied that we were all really awful people.

I heard the sound of the front door closing.

"I'm sorry," I finally said.

"No, don't say that, Mike."

Several more seconds passed, and I couldn't find anything more to say.

"Hey," Lisa began, "I'll make it up to you, OK? And trust me, I can make it up to you in ways you can't imagine, I promise." She offered up a smile to me.

I couldn't help but smile back at her adorable face, covered in freckles and framed by that long, silken blond hair.

"There is one thing you can do to make it up to me right now," I suggested.

"What's that?"

"Kiss me."

"Kiss you?" She was confused by the request.

"Yeah. See, we had sex, but we never shared a kiss, and that feels really strange to me. And you have these two sides to you, you know? This sweet, innocent side and then that dirty-talking seductress side. I have experienced that dirty-talking seductress side, obviously. But right now, I think I could feel a whole lot better if I could experience that innocent side."

Lisa's smile broadened and she crinkled her nose. "That's so corny."

"I know it is." I felt embarrassment in my cheeks.

Lisa reached up and placed her hands behind my neck and pulled my face down to hers. She placed her lips gently upon mine. Her tongue followed, so small against mine. I tasted the sweetness of her mouth as our tongues tossed about together for several seconds. She pulled away, then gave me another brief, dry kiss upon my lips before wiping her thumb across my lower lip.

"Don't tell your wife we did that," Lisa said. "I think that would make her jealous."

"It's our secret. And thank you."

"By the way, the guest room is still open to you and Melissa. I think you're still pretty drunk, so I suggest you take it."

"Yeah, I think we will. Thanks again."

"OK. Good night, then."

Giving thought to all that had just transpired, I slowly began my descent on the stairs. Partway down, two pairs of feet in front of the living room couch came into view, just off to the right of the foyer from my point of view. A few steps later, I could see it was Mark and Cindy. Mark was tanked, staring straight forward from behind his red and sweaty face. Cindy sat on his left, her left hand on his left forearm as her right hand rubbed his back. She saw me coming down the steps, but Mark didn't seem to notice. Before reaching the bottom, I stopped and sat there on a step.

"Hey, Mike. Looks like we're calling it a night," Cindy said. A worried look stretched across her face.

"Is he going to be OK?" I asked.

"Yeah, he's fine. We're just waiting for a taxi."

With Mark and Cindy sitting here before me, that left Melissa, Greg, and Brian in the kitchen. Turning my head to the right and peering between the balusters that supported the staircase's handrail, the glass pane of a picture frame on the far wall, just to the left of the dining room, reflected the light from the kitchen into my eyes. Shadows moved among that light on the pane. Was Brian still in there with them? Then I remembered hearing the front door close a few minutes ago.

For the second time tonight, I felt a sense of alarm. My stomach sank and blood rushed into my groin. My hands began to shake, so I dropped them to the step on which I sat and gripped its edge tight.

"Hey, is Brian still here?" I tried to sound a little cheerful in my inquiry to disguise its weight, but the worried look on Cindy's face suddenly appeared to be less about Mark, and more about me. I knew her answer before she spoke it.

"No, he left a couple minutes ago."

A car horn honked outside.

"That's the taxi," said Cindy. She jumped up and walked across the living room toward the dining room, but stopped several steps short before calling around the corner. "Hey, Greg! Our taxi is here! Thanks again for having us!" She didn't wait for an answer before returning to Mark, and an answer didn't come. Cindy gave me a weak wave of her hand as she helped Mark out the front door, then closed it behind her.

I looked again to the light reflecting on the glass pane of the picture frame. I didn't see any movement this time. I stood and moved my head around, up and down and side to side, searching for an angle that might reveal any sort of image, but none revealed anything. The distance was too great, and the glass was warped.

The anticipation of seeing Melissa and Greg, drunk, high, and alone together in the kitchen, had my body trembling and my heart pounding against my ribcage. Reminding myself that I was alone in the room, I grabbed my dick through my khakis and squeezed it as hard as I could, wrapping all that fabric around it, and pumped it with my hand. I pushed down roughly into my groin and flexed my stomach muscles with all my might. The stress I felt was overwhelming, and I had learned long ago that the strenuous flexing of those muscles forces them to relax afterward, providing some physical relief.