The Game Ch. 03

She looked at her cheap watch.

"I'm dressed for work so to speak; I've got a punter coming in half hour so be quick about your business. Unless you'd like a quick one for forty quid," she nodded towards a pullout bed in the lounge room made up with tacky stained satin sheets.

David blushed.

"No thanks Sandra; I was just looking up the old gang; you know for old times sake," David lied.

"Well you tell those other three cunts to go and get fucked if you see them; none of you ever bothered to look me up or offered to help. I suppose I can't blame William; he's at the bottom of the sea somewhere but I never heard from the rest of you fuckers once we graduated," Sandra let her venom loose on David.

"Now we're all caught up with each other. No need for you to tell me about yourself, I can read a dust jacket. So if you're not paying me for a shag, you can fuck off as well," she nodded at the door.

David opened his wallet and put two fifty-pound notes on the table; it was a pitiful gesture but it was at least something. He left without saying goodbye.

Bethany was in a totally different situation. David tracked her down to a small estate in Surrey; his research indicated she had done very well for herself.

She met David at the door wearing a white sleeveless sundress with red roses embossed on it, strappy white high heel sandals, perfect makeup and hair that had obviously been professionally coiffured. She still had a tiny waist and was still gorgeous; blonde haired, tanned and her breasts had been enhanced to perfection. She looked like a Stepford Wife.

"Please come in David, I'm so pleased to see you after all these years and not a peep," she teased him.

David gave her his biggest smile.

"I'm looking up the old gang; the Gamers; I'm thinking of writing an article about us and our little dares," he lied.

Bethany invited David through the huge elaborately and expensively furnished house and out back to the garden. David noticed four packed suitcases under the staircase in the entrance foyer.

It was sunny day but not particularly warm; best described as pleasant so David left his jacket on. Bethany led them to a tiled patio with a white lattice pergola where there was an outdoor setting. She invited David to sit and smoothed her dress under her as she sat in the white wicker chair opposite him. She poured them both a glass of sangria.

"To old times then," Bethany offered her glass and gave him a big red-lipstick and bleached-white-teeth smile.

The ice clinked in their glasses as they tapped the rims together to seal the toast.

"So! A visit from the famous author after all these years," she crossed her legs and swung her foot, either unconsciously or deliberately, but either way it got David's full attention.

David thought Bethany was barelegged but then he noticed that she was wearing the sheerest hosiery that David had ever seen; gossamer thin, translucent. The only way he could tell she was wearing nylons was when she turned her leg a certain way and the sun made the hosiery shimmer. He couldn't help but stare.

Bethany noticed him staring and blurted out a little nervous laugh; covering her mouth.

"So you still have a fixation for tights and knickers; or pantyhose and panties as you call them in your books," she smiled at him beguilingly.

David blushed a deep crimson; how did she know about his fetish?

"I write for an international audience. The word tights is very English and to me evokes images of those horrible opaque things women wear in winter and knickers is also such a British word," he explained; but he was still embarrassed that she knew about his fixation.

"How did you know about..." David was about to ask but Bethany put down her glass and waved a hand at him to stop.

"All of us girls knew David. You used to masturbate with our tights and knickers taken from our laundry baskets when you visited our flats; didn't you think we would notice the stains? You were so pissed or high most of the time you probably forgot to clean up your mess," Bethany continued to smile.

She took a sip of her drink and continued.

"One night, one of the girls, I think it was Rachael, raised her suspicions. Then Sandra said she thought so too and I told them I had also found evidence that you'd wanked in my sheers. In fact I think you stole some of my underwear. Were you a knicker nicker David?" she tormented him.

David was now extremely embarrassed and he looked down at the ground guiltily.

"How do you know it wasn't Timothy or William?" he mumbled.

"Come on David really! You know all three of us fancied the pants off you back then but we had that stupid rule about no fucking other Gamers.

"I missed my chance to seduce you that time I had you in my bedroom when I feminised you. Do you remember? I'd done your makeup and unsurprisingly you got a hardon when you put on my knickers and stockings. I was kneeling on the floor right in front of you, straightening the seams of your stockings and you tenting my panties but I was too naïve to make a move," she chuckled.

Bethany had inadvertently taken the conversation exactly where David wanted it. He wasn't particularly comfortable discussing his penchant for ladies underwear but they were at least talking about The Game and in particular, the dare where he was feminised.

"I didn't miss my chance with Timothy though," Bethany drained her glass and refilled it while she continued to talk.

David realised that Bethany was more than a little tipsy which probably explained her chattiness and frankness.

"You know I got that dare to dressup as a brass and hang out under the railway bridge with the other prostitutes? I just shooed away any potential 'punters' is what I think they called them. You all fucked off to watch a band leaving Timothy behind to keep me safe and make sure that I kept the dare going until midnight. You all drove away in that awful Combi that William owned leaving Timothy behind to watch me from afar. Well he came over after a while."

"He said he was worried about me with all these strange men hanging around but I could see he wanted me; me being dressed like a trollop must have turned him on. I took him into a cutout under the bridge and let him fuck me up against the wall. I came like a train. Pardon the pun, but it was so naughty. We both pledged to keep it a secret."

"I think there were a lot of secrets between the six of us back then," she stared knowingly at him.

'Did she know about Petra and William? Was she the Quizmaster?' David pondered.

"Anyway; I've read all your books and almost everything else you've written. I know that you are married to a wonderful lady named Marie who is a lawyer and that you have a little girl called Rachael. Is that a coincidence or did you fancy Rachael? Did you two ever..." Bethany's eyes shone as she sipped her drink and regarded him capriciously.

"How do you know all that? The dust jackets of course! A little potted history of the author's life. So much wank; but my publisher insists," David answered his own question and filled his glass and topped off Bethany's.

"And my life is so boring by comparison," Bethany smiled wanly.

"I got my degree in computer sciences, which back them was a fledgling industry. I was studying for my doctorate while I worked at one of the emerging tech giants and that's where I met Ian. He was ten years older and so much smarter than me. I fell for his mind as much as anything else."

"I gave up my studies and worked under Ian while he rose up the corporate ladder until I just didn't need to work any more. I became a lady who lunches. I play tennis twice a week, I go to tanning and nail salons, I have a gym membership; bet you'd like to see me in my gym tights?" she winked at him.

"Anyway we were married for five years and I never guessed that Ian was gay until one day he just came out and told me. He did such a good job of hiding it. We now have what's known as a 'marriage of convenience'. He hunts down hot-bodied young gay men and I'm allowed to play the field; all we demand from each other is discretion," Bethany looked at the bottom of her glass.

"I think the young men refer to me as a MILF, or a cougar, or some such rubbish. I don't care; I just like to travel the world fucking handsome young men with hot bodies," she looked up and drained the last of the sangria into her glass.

David was stunned that Bethany was so candid with him. Throughout her story Bethany had dangled her sandal from her foot and rotated it in little circles; David was mesmerised by her gossamer-clad toes.

"Are you discreet David? Would you like to explore my legs a little more, see how far under this dress they go? I bet you would. I can see the bulge in your trousers from here," she reached out and patted his knee.

David was speechless as she rose out of her chair and sat in his lap, sitting astride his thighs facing him. She tousled his hair and lowered those full red lips down to his. She tasted like sangria and cigarettes; she was wearing Poison, his favourite perfume. Had she worn it for him? He didn't care.

He slipped his hands under Bethany's sundress and stroked her thighs. They felt so smooth and silky, encased in the sheerest of nylons.

"Come on David! No time for foreplay; I want you to fuck me! You can take me to bed and have all the foreplay you want later," Bethany gasped into his mouth.

Her breathing was ragged; her breath hot and spicy, her need so manifest.

She half stood on her heels, still straddling him and clawed at his jeans, impatiently working on his belt and ripping down his fly. David half rose so he could pull his jeans and his underpants down to the top of his thighs allowing his erection to spring free.

Bethany pushed him back down in the chair and hiked up her dress; she clawed at the gusset of her sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose ripping out the crotch; she was not wearing knickers.

She impaled herself on David's rampant penis and took his face in her hands and kissed him arduously, driving her tongue into his mouth. David put his hands on her waist and held on as she rode him, driving her pubis down into his crotch and grinding it; extracting every scintilla of pleasure that she could from him.

She was using him. She was fucking him. David was just her sex toy.

Bethany's cunt was sopping wet; warm and odorous. David could smell her sex as she rode up and down, fucking him hard, grunting and gasping into his mouth. Her cunt clung to his hard phallus, almost milking him as she gyrated and ground into him.

"Fuck! Fuck! Yes! Yes!" she screamed, her head flung back in wantonness as she orgasmed.

She pounded herself up and down on David's cock, holding onto his shoulders, writhing with delight as she came. She kissed him, bit him and raked her nails on his neck as she climaxed.

It all happened so fast that David didn't come.

When Bethany was finally satisfied she collapsed in his lap; her head resting on his shoulder as she panted, trying to catch her breath.

She could feel him still hard inside her.

"You didn't come did you?" she looked questioningly into his eyes.

"No," David smiled at her.

A wicked grin crossed her lips.

"Good! Let's go upstairs and you can do me properly," Bethany stood; the sinister grin still on her face.

Not even bothering to pull down her dress she yanked David out of his chair and half-dragged him up to her bedroom; he wasn't even able to pull up his jeans.

She was insatiable.

When she had fucked David to the extent that he could no longer gain an erection she pushed his face into her crotch and made him perform cunnilingus on her; orgasming almost continually. When David's jaw got tired she threw him down on the bed and suckled him until he became erect again and rode him until they were both exhausted.

David fell asleep some time after three in the morning and awoke to Bethany poking him with a finger.

She was dressed in her travelling clothes; a two piece suit. Her hair and makeup were perfect and her eyes sparkled. David once more thought of the Stepford Wife analogy.

"I have a car waiting. I'm off on a two-month cruise around the Caribbean; thanks for a wonderful day yesterday. You can put it in one of your books if you like, just don't use my name. You can't stay here sweetie so get up and get going," Bethany bent down and kissed his cheek and then rubbed her lipstick off his skin.

David was stunned but that explained the suitcases in the foyer. Bethany was undoubtedly some sort of nymphomaniacal lunatic cougar but he doubted that she was the Quizmaster, especially now that she was leaving the country for two months.

He heard the clatter of her high heels on the marble staircase and her shrill voice giving orders to her driver and then he rolled out of bed and dressed hurriedly.

David felt uncommonly guilty when he returned home. He'd told Marie that he was taking a road trip to do some research for the book he was writing and that he'd been gone two days. He still needed to locate Timothy as he was now convinced that none of the girl Gamers was the Quizmaster, which meant that Timothy was now his prime suspect.

David wished he'd had time to shower before he left Bethany's but Bethany was running so late that she had just about thrown him out the door. He thought that he could still smell her on him; her perfume was cloying and her bedroom had reeked of sex when he'd awakened. He convinced himself that it was his imagination but he felt so guilty about fucking Bethany. When Petra had sex it didn't count as adultery because she was Petra not David; but this time David actually felt like he had been unfaithful to his wife.

He had hoped that Marie would still be at work but she was home and came into the hallway when he came through the front door. He threw his jacket on a coathook and kissed her cheek and raced upstairs hoping to shower.

He ripped off his clothes and was about to go into the ensuite when Marie called up to him.

"David can you come down here. Can you come down here now please!"

He dressed in his bathrobe and padded barefoot downstairs. He was thinking of an excuse that he could use so as to not have sex with Marie; he doubted he could get it up after Bethany had drained him.

He needn't have bothered.

Marie was standing at the bottom of staircase holding his jacket in one hand and something else in the other.

She tossed the something at him; she was seething and her eyes were red and filled with tears.

He caught the something. It was Bethany's discarded pantyhose with the crotch ripped out. Pinned to the pantyhose was a note written on lavender notepaper.

'Enjoy these lover! I have some great memories of you until I return, B'

The 'B' was enlarged; the writing stylised, handwritten with a fountain pen. Bethany had placed a big red-lipsticked kiss on the bottom of the note.

"I can explain," David lied.

"Explain! Explain those scratches and bitemarks on your neck? You reek of her David!" Marie screamed at him.

Marie regained her composure.

"Pack your bags," she said calmly.

To be continued