The Deal Pt. 01

* Chapter 2 *

When Shannon and I first started having sex we were as interested in discussing and exploring what we had done and tried and when, and with whom, almost as much as doing it. On one of those post coital talk sessions, she asked me if I masturbated and I admitted that I did. 'Who doesn't was my response'. She said she'd never then snikkered and said that made me a jerk. I refrained from letting her know that what we had indulged in earlier made her a cock-sucker.

* * *

Two weeks later, my doorbell rang at 7:00 o'clock on Saturday night. It was a warm Summer evening, and she was dressed simply in a yellow cotton sun dress and sandals. The dress flattered her long, slim legs, flaring hips and breasts that still pointed upward. She had taken care of herself since I'd known her and although she had lost the fresh bloom of youth she had, gained a maturity that if anything, made her even more beautiful.

"Come in." I stepped aside.

She walked past me into the lounge, standing there and looking around. Looking at everything except me.

After a few moments of silence, I asked. "So, is this your answer?"

She looked at me. "Yes... No... I don't know." She grimaced. "I want to know what anything is going to entail."

I motioned to the love seat and she sat, demurely feet flat, knees pressed together. I sat on the couch and faced her.

"Anything means anything." I said. "It was your proposal, your choice of words. It seems clear that it means anything... I... damned... well... please."

She nodded. "Even... you know?"

I nodded. "Yes. Even that. Don't tell me you still haven't tried..."

She shook her head. "No. Never." She looked at me, her eyes pleading. "Why are you doing this?"

I sat back, crossed my legs, and put my right arm over the back of the couch. "I'm not Shannon. You're doing this. This was your decision to take the deal."

"You know what I mean." She glared at me.

I smiled grimly. "Yes, I know what you mean." I got up and walked into the liquor cabinet, grabbed two crystal goblets dropped in a couple of ice cubes and a hefty amount of twelve year old whiskey. I returned, placing one on the table in front of her. I swirled the Ice and took a drink. "You don't give a shit for anyone but yourself. We were engaged and you dropped me because you thought you found someone better. Four years together, and the best you could do was dump me in two words while some asshole squeezed your ass and you humped his crotch."

"You brushed me off without an explanation and moved on. It's all about you, it's always been all about you, and it will always be all about you." I took another drink. "Well, now it's going to be all about someone else, and you're going to be giving instead of taking."

"I've changed Erik." She said, her voice small and sad. "Becoming a mother has changed me. I've learned to think and care about others first. Can you not find it in your heart to help me without putting me through this?" Her eyes searched my face for any sign of relenting.

"No! The deal is the deal. Either take it or walk out!"

Her eyes flashed, her anger palpable in her tensed jaw. She picked up her whiskey and downed half of it, coughed at the bite then her eyes reconnected with mine.

"Fine," she said, putting down the glass and kicking off her sandals, "I'll take the deal. I'll do whatever you say and humiliate myself to you, but it's not going to be me giving in to you. Just know that, Erik. I'll be doing this for my children, not for you."

I nodded. "That's fine, so let's begin."

I stood, walked to the light switch, dimmed the lights, walked to the front door and locked it, then returned to the sofa.

"When we first started dating, I remember you asking me once whether I ever jerked off. I told you yes -- hell, who doesn't--and you laughed. And you would bring it up occasionally, and you'd laugh some more." She tried to suppress a smile. And you said you never played with yourself." I raised my eyebrow. Her smile disappeared as she saw where this was going. "So what I want you to do is to play with yourself for me."

She laughed. "You're kidding me."

I shook my head. "I assure you I'm not." I leaned forward. "There's more. I want you to describe it to me while you do it." She glared at me. "And I mean me, not to someone else." She figured it out, I smiled and raised my eyebrow. "I'm waiting."

She stood up angrily, killed the rest of her whiskey in one go, no coughing this time and pushed her dress straps to the side, and shrugged it down her lithe figure. She was wearing a thick white bra and unflattering bikini panties, clearly making herself as unsexy as possible. But, on the positive side her skin was a pale gold, her belly was flat except for a slight roundness at the very bottom. No doubt a result of the pregnancy. her hips flared beautifully and her panties were flat without the tell-tale signs of hair. Did she shave now? There was a faint horizontal scar just above the top of her panties probably from a caesarean section. I'll say this, she looked better now than when she was in college. I felt a tightening in my trousers.

She hesitated for a long time until I gestured for her to get on with it whilst I rolled another sip of whisky over my tongue. She looked down at her feet embarrassed as she slipped the bra off her shoulders, pinching her shoulder blades together and jutting out her breasts as she did so. To me they looked better than ever, larger than before a B+ possibly a C, apparently the product of children, but still pointing slightly north of the equator. She looked up and held my gaze, her face was resolute.

She traced her hands up her sides, across her belly, and under her breasts. She tweaked her nipples, slowly pinching and stretching them while her hands slowly traced circles lightly across the tops and sides. "You used to do this, remember?" She said.

"My name, Shannon." I said. "Use my name".

She trailed her right hand down her ribcage, across to the left side of her stomach, and just beneath the elastic of her panties. "Is this what you wanted to see? Erik." She said. "My pussy? My wet, tight pussy?" Her hand reached further into her panties, her hips swaying slowly from side to side.

Where had she learned to do this? I wondered. Why hadn't she done this before, when we were together? But, then again six and a bit years was a long time.

I watched her hand go further into her panties and begin to make circular movements, her hips gyrating gently. "I can't do this alone." She said. "C'mon Erik, "I want you to help me." She gazed into my eyes, embarrassed. "Please Erik, don't make me do this alone."

I ignored her for a whole minute, then. "Take your panties off." I said. "Spread your legs and carry on." She looked at me her face flushing red.

"Please, this is so... so degrading." Her hand was only lightly moving inside her panties.

"Not at all." I said. "Actually, it's quite erotic."

"But Erik..."

"Shhh," I said. "Convince me you've got your heart and soul in it, I'll reward you."

"How?" she asked, using her left hand to tweak her nipples.

"It'll be fair." I said. "You'll just have to trust me on this one." She looked doubtful. "You really have little choice, you know."

She backed up in the love seat, raised her hips, and slipped her panties down her legs. There was a small, feathery tuft of blonde pubic hair above the hood of her clit, and nothing else. Well, I thought, she shaves. She put her heels on the table in front of her, leaned back, tilted her head to the ceiling, and went back to manipulating her pussy. Her pussy was still plump like I remembered, and she was wet. Her juices glistened on her labia trailing down towards her brown rosebud. Her fingers were moving slowly up and down her pussy lips, stopping every now and then to circle around her engorged clit. "I need you Erik." She gasped. "I don't want to do this alone. Please," she looked at me, her eyelids now half-closed and her upper body involuntarily swaying with the feelings rushing through her.

"It's not about you." I said. "For once, it's about me."

"Can I at least play with your cock?" She asked, reaching out with her hand towards me.

I pushed my hand out. "Don't stop what you're doing. " She looked disappointed or possibly frustrated but kept up the same rhythm as before. Up, down, up, down, circle the clit, the occasional figure eight around her entire soaking pussy. A small damp spot was gathering on the love seat between her legs. I hadn't been this turned on in a very long time.

Slowly but surely her moaning increased in response to her ministrations of on her body. I looked down and I saw her middle finger disappear into her pussy, and she started urgently pushing her thumb up against her clit.

"Please Erik." She gasped " Touch me. Touch me anywhere."

"You're doing just fine." I said. "Carry on and I'll reward you, but first tell me what you're doing to yourself."

"I'm touching myself Erik, I'm circling my clitty and I'm fucking myself with my fingers, wishing I had a big hard cock inside to fuck me silly, to fuck my brains out." She wasn't only plunging her fingers in and out any more, she was jerking her hips upwards to meet them and accelerate her finger fuck. Her eyes were rolling backwards and her back was arched off the seat as she went into a rhythmic "Uh, uh, uh... "Oh God." She cried." I'm fucking myself."

And without any further warning her legs tensed up. "I'm coming, you bastard." She threw her head back panting and gasping for breath. She started shaking. "Oh God, oh yes, oh Christ yes."

She plunged her fingers of her left hand hard and deep into her pussy while her right hand kept circling her clit as she went into a series of spasms and then eventually she collapsed lying there, gently rubbing her lower tummy. Her earlier embarrassment at masturbating naked in front of me while I had remained fully dressed seemed to have evolved into a comfortable acceptance.

"So," she said, between breaths. "Do I get my reward?"

I could only nod in response.

"And what is it?"

I leaned back on the couch my erection hard as granite as I did my best not to try rearranging it into a more comfortable position in my pants. I looked at her. "Your choice."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning." I said, crossing my arms across my chest. "It's your call. Whatever you want to do." She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. "Within reason." I added.

She nodded, beginning to get her energy back. After a moment, she stood up, and announced. "Then I want to wash and go home." With that, she drank down the melted ice water in her tumbler and wandered off naked in search of a bathroom.

She could still surprise me.

* Chapter 3 *

Shannon was in my office the following Tuesday, late afternoon. There was, as threatened by her asshole husband, denial of requests and motions, and enough paperwork to swamp a small law practice. That bastard was true to his word: He was going to try to spend her into the ground on this. I smiled to myself; her bill was already nearing $4,000.00, and she'd be spending her foreseeable Saturdays trying to pay it all off.

After an hour of reviewing documents, signing pleadings, and discussing strategy, I pushed back from the table and put my pen down. "Okay," I said, "it's been an hour, so we're off the clock as of now. Okay?"

She nodded. "How long do I have to live without a cent to my name?"

"We're preparing some motions to get you a Temporary Spousal Support order." I answered. "But they could take a while to get in front of a judge. Remember, this is a custody case, and although I'll try for nine to twelve months these things can sometimes take up to a couple of years."

Her shoulders slumped. "What? Why?"

"Because we've got to finish discovery, the Guardian ad Litem has to do the report, we have depositions and business valuations, settlement conferences with the court, and so on and so on and only one of these can be done tomorrow."

She looked down at the table. "Erik?" She was conflicted. "You're not just doing all of this to prolong your... You know."

"No, Shannon, I'm not." I pushed back from the table, walked to the door, stuck my head out, and called. "Rebecca, can you please come in here for a minute?" Seconds later, Rebecca entered. She smelled of citrus and vanilla with a touch of musk, I recognised it as 'Si' by Giorgio Armani. I should've hired an old hag. It would sure as hell improve my concentration around the office.

"What's up?" Rebecca asked.

"You remember Mrs. Hollis?" I said, jerking my head toward Shannon. Shannon looked up and tried to smile at Rebecca.

"Sure, you holding up okay?" She asked, placing her hand on Shannon's shoulder and gently squeezing her. Hmmm, what's this? I thought.

Shannon placed her hand on top of Rebecca's. "Okay, I guess."

"Rebecca, you're familiar with this file, right?" Rebecca nodded. "And you know how long divorce cases usually take, right?"

"Like this one?" She answered. "One, year at least, maybe more is my best guess."

"What if I told you I have assured Mrs. Hollis that this one will be done in about nine to twelve months?"

"I'd say you're being very optimistic." She looked down at Shannon, smiling gently, her hand rubbing the back of her arm. "You have no idea how complex your case is, Shannon. Much of your husband's wealth is held in trust and there's the prenup you signed to consider. These things take forever. But if Erik says he'll have it done in fifteen to eighteen months, he's working miracles, okay?"

"Thanks Rebecca." Shannon smiled.

When Rebecca left, I closed the door behind her and went back to my chair. "You know," I said. "You could help us here."

"How?"

"Does he have a home computer that he uses?" She nodded. "Then get me that computer." I said. "We tend to find plenty of useful surprises on them."

"He does but I'm out the house and by now I'm sure he's changed the locks to stop me from going back in."

"OK, we'll work on that." I leaned forward and lowered my voice. "About the other night." She looked down at the table, her good cheer dissipating. "Did you have a good time?"

She shook her head. "No I hated it!" She spat. "You're a pig."

I smiled uncaring of her characterisation. "Have you, have touched yourself since?"

Her head shot up, her eyes glaring. "None of your fucking business."

"Did you think of me when you did?"

She blushed a deep red and said nothing. That's okay, I though, I had my answer.

* * *

The next Saturday I called her in the morning on the new burner phone I had given her - You never know what spouses get up to in terms of spying on each other during divorce proceedings, so we'd agreed not to use her regular cell phone for any of our legal, or extracurricular dealings. "How's Kerry and Kayla." I asked.

She was momentarily non-plussed, then. "Thank you for asking it's more than asshole's done in the last month." She took a shaky breath." They're too young to understand why they're not living at home and are asking for their father, but it's getting less." She said sadly.

We were both silent for a while. Then I reminded her of our next get together that evening. "We're starting off at Maximillien's." It was the newest and only, real French restaurant in town, a small 60-seater with two sittings per evening and it had been fully booked since it opened. But, I had sorted out their zoning and licencing as well as the lease contract so it didn't take much to get a table at short notice. Shannon didn't want me picking her up, so we agreed to meet at the restaurant for the second sitting at nine.

"Wear something nice tonight." I said. "And no more of the granny panties and maternity style bras. Pretend you're trying to impress me." She spluttered and tried to say something along the lines that she wasn't going to go out of her way to look sexy for me, but I cut her right down.

"Look Shannon, we have a deal. You said you would do anything to keep your children against your asshole, whoring, wife-beating husband and you have zero money. I offered you a solution and you agreed to it. I'm not blackmailing you, you can say no, at any time you like and I'll give you your complete file of all the work done to date to take to a new lawyer." That seemed to drive home the point and I switched off.

* Chapter 4 *

I got to Maximillien's at quarter to nine as the first sitting was starting to leave. I ordered an Old Fashioned and stood in their waiting room - come - bar area. I sipped and spoke to two other couples also there. Everybody was dressed appropriately, the women in evening or cocktail dress, the men in jacket and tie. I was bucking the tie trend in an open necked Ralph Lauren shirt with Khakis, a Hugo Boss sports jacket and Italian loafers completed by a fresh haircut and barber shave. I felt at ease in my skin.

I had my back to the entrance when I noticed everyone's attention focus on the door. I turned and there she was, in a tight midnight blue cocktail dress that was cut low in front to show the start of her cleavage and ended half-way up her thighs. Her shoes and small clutch bag were high-end fashion house in black with silver trim.

She wore her hair in a side parted bob with a pair of small earrings in what I assumed was platinum or white gold and no other ornaments. Her skin glowed a pale gold in contrast to the dark dress. The overall effect left her looking almost naked. She noticed my mouth was hanging and half giggled, half snickered at the effect she was having on me. She looked me over for a long minute then she must have reminded herself that I was still a pig and composing herself strode over but there was little doubt that she was impressed with the venue. Maybe even me.

With everyone's eyes on her she glided up to me and surprisingly came in for a hug -- which I returned in a casual manner. 'You look good enough to eat." I admitted.

She smiled widely as she moved closer, her full breasts pushed against me and her hand snaked around my neck pulling my face towards her mouth. "It's not for you." She whispered in my ear. "You could have had me completely when I said I would come back to you." She turned her head brushing her lips past mine and leaned back with an evil grin making sure I knew she had noticed the effect she was having on me. She took my Old Fashioned out of my hand and had a sip. "Mmm, order me one as well." She said, pushing her body against mine delighting at the uncomfortable bulge in my pants.

I captured her trim waist and pulled her close. "Why buy the cow when all I want is the milk." I whispered back and her smile faltered for a moment, but she recovered smoothly and softly as she looked at me through narrow calculating eyes.

"Your mouth says one thing... But your body says something else." She grinned some more.

I frowned at her and cursed my traitorous penis. It didn't help. It was still throbbing uncomfortably in my pants, but I managed to use Shannon as a shield to re-arrange Mr Eager into a more comfortable position and we spent the next few minutes chit-chatting with the other dinners as we waited for her old fashioned.

Sometime after nine we were escorted to our table by the Maître' D. The dining room lighting was soft and hidden speakers alternated between light classical and well known French songs from the forties, fifties and sixties. I recognised a song from Edith Piaf and then another from Charles Aznavour.

Marcel, the owner/manager came over to the table and welcomed me, held onto Shannon's hand far longer than necessary when I introduced them and kissed it making her blush. She didn't know he was gay. At least I thought he was gay.

"She looks like a keeper." He smiled at me while I scowled, and Shannon smirked in my face.