The Examination Ch. 05


Recovering rapidly from twenty or more minutes of uninterrupted foreplay, Betty nudged Arnold to lead her to the floor. Arnold was happy to comply as this brought him closer to the wild little blonde. If having trouble keeping up with the contortions of his partner was humbling for Paul, seeing his wife, well, his ex-wife, start performing an only slightly less frenetic version of whatever Megan was doing, was acutely embarrassing. Where the hell had the woman learned to dance like that? When Betty ground her hips and jiggled her tits, she had a lot more to grind and jiggle than the girl.

Perhaps sensing that a riot might break out if the hot little blonde's and her older companion's display of blatant sexuality wasn't curbed, the band switched to a `70s ballad. Megan deflated like an untied balloon, disoriented by the slower 4/6 beat. Paul tried to lead, but Megan was hopeless. Glancing over, Paul saw that Betty was in the same predicament.

"Do you mind?" Paul asked smoothly, dropping Megan's hand and tapping the young man on the shoulder. Neither Arnold or Megan had ever heard of "cutting in" but the maneuver went off without a hitch. Arnold and Megan were left staring at each other, not knowing what to do, as Paul swept off with his wife, well, his ex-wife.

"My god what a spectacle you were making of yourself!" Paul whispered between clenched teeth, hiding his ire from the other dancers behind a broad smile.

"What about yourself, *darling*?" Betty hissed. "You were perfectly ridiculous clomping around to a techno-beat."

"I mean over at the booth! At least she wasn't giving me a blow job in public."

"Don't complain to me. *You* were the one who had the way with the ladies all these years."

"If you'd dressed and looked as hot as you do tonight, I wouldn't have been chasing skirts."

"When did you ever invite me to a place like this, where a woman who looks like a woman is appreciated? The only place you ever took me was to those damned cocktail parties with your corporate clients," Betty shot back. "Well, looks like you have a woman with the proportions you like."

"What do you mean? You've got the proportions I like, babe."

"I mean the little blonde. Looks like her bust size exceeds her age which exceeds her IQ."

The other dancers marveled as the suave gentleman and his elegantly sexy dance partner glided around the floor, unaware of the exchange of vituperation passing between the smiling couple.

"But I'll take that as a compliment, anyway. Thank you." Betty continued, slightly mollified.

"I mean it, babe. I've never seen you looking so good."

"Not having to put up with *you* had given me more time to spend on myself," Betty explained, icily.

"Well, what can I say? Did you had to leave me to become the woman I've always wanted?"

"Why didn't you tell me what you wanted?

"Well, I did, didn't I? I'm sure I told you I liked a woman in heels and earrings and you don't need to be told men like to see a woman's legs."

"You told me how you liked `a woman' to dress. You never told me that you'd love to see `me' dressed that way. I wanted to be your wife, Paul, not your whore. Why didn't you ever send me any of those flowers I kept finding receipts for?" Betty was sobbing softly now and had snuggled into Paul's arms.

"Oh baby! I was so stupid running after sex from all those chicks, but I never loved anyone but you."

"Paul, darling, I want to believe that so much."

"Elizabeth, my love. Please come back to me. Give me a change to prove I love you every day for the rest of my life."

James and Amaka like everyone else in the club were riveted on the couple standing in the middle of the dance floor, no longer moving, crying into each other's arms. Amaka leaned over and kissed James approvingly. Then she noticed Arnold and Megan over in the corner booth. Arnold appeared to be sucking one tit and them the other without removing his hand from between Megan's legs. She was whinnying in rut. Amaka leaned over and kissed James again.

The End

Comments, please, to: Homer Vargas

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