The Pawn

It had been yet another confirmation of the fact that personal hate for Michael was somehow behind it all, the way he had come inside her after Michael caught them had been the first clue. Michael, she had loved him so much, and somewhere, deep inside, she's still clinging to that hope that somehow, sometime, this nightmare will be over, and she can hook up with him again. In the meantime she has to make sure she doesn't give Peter a reason to try to kill him.

She looks at the line of people, there are so many. As the company's assistant personnel manager she knows most employees, and Peter knows many people too. And then there are her many friends, most of whom are Michael's friends too, which is why some of them are not going to come to the reception tonight. Of those one had really hurt; Tom had e-mailed her he wouldn't be coming. It was understandable; Tom was Michael's buddy, they had served in the army together, did a tour in Iraq together. But she had really loved Tom, he was, after Michael, the nicest guy in the world, and now he hated her, for obvious reasons.

***

Nicky's eyes are drawn to somewhere halfway the slowly moving line of waiting people, her heart skips a beat as she recognizes Michael's face. He's talking to an older woman in front of him; she recognizes Lucy, a colleague from work that Michael met a couple of times at company parties, when they were still together. Her eyes lock with Peter's, "Did you invite Michael?"

Her husband grins, "Yes, I assumed he would appreciate it, seeing the former love of his life off towards a better future." So he wants to rub it in his face, but why has Michael come?

She looks to her front, accepting the congratulations from another of Peter's associates that knows her intimately. She ignores the man, concentrating on the guests in the room behind him. A lot of them know Michael, and have clearly noticed him too. Anxiety descends on her, what is he going to say; what is he going to do? She nearly panics, then another thought hits her, It's Michael, he may be hurt, he may be angry, but he'll never make a scene, and he'll never get physical with you either, he'll never hit you.

She forces herself to concentrate on the people congratulating her for a while, and then he's there, congratulating Peter next to her. Nothing bad is said, but a hostile undertone is unmistakably present. She watches him hand Peter an envelope, he even brought a gift? He had always had this knack for practical jokes, she wonders what's in the envelope; it won't be anything good. And then he's standing in front of her. Her eyes lock with his, for a moment she looks into this pit of hurt, and it reverberates inside her, making her heart cringe.

Then this curtain rises, locking her out, he takes her hand, but he doesn't hug her, his voice sounds pleasantly, "Hi Nicky, I wish you many happy years of marriage, and congratulations on your pregnancy." And then he simply lets go of her hand and steps aside, Is that it? she thinks, And how does he know you're pregnant? It isn't that obvious yet. A young chestnut haired woman moves in front of her, she's in her early twenties by the looks of it, and she's absolutely gorgeous. Her eyes wander over her satin dress, the fabric clinging to her perfect figure, the beautiful jewelry she's wearing, her stunning hairdo, and then it all just pales next to her gorgeous face.

She has never seen her before, the young woman offers her her hand. She takes it, a little dazed as she listens to the stunning woman, "Hi," she says, "I'm Natasha, Michael's girlfriend." Her eastern European accent hardly registers, as Natasha looks down towards where Michael, as she now realizes, is still standing. She follows her eyes down, to the little girl clinging to Michael's leg, "And that's my daughter, Mischka" The little girl is as cute as her mother is gorgeous. She lets go of Michael's leg, walks up to Nicky, then proudly shows her a sparkling silver charm bracelet on her little wrist.

She can't help bending down towards her, mesmerized, takes her little hand in hers and looks at her bracelet, "Now that's a beautiful bracelet you've got there."

The little girl beams, "Got from papa. Mama got ring." She recoils, her face flies up towards the young woman, who grins, showing her her left hand, wiggling her spread fingers. A silver ring with three little rubies sits on her ring finger.

The one he had offered her, just weeks after she first 'met' Peter, had been silver too, but with a green amethyst. She trembles, the young woman moves up to her, hugging her, cheek to cheek. "Thank you, for handing me the greatest guy in the world," she whispers in her ear. "And if you ever try to fuck him over again I'm going to fucking bury you." Then she lets go of her, locks eyes with her, smiling, "Congratulations Nicky, and many happy years of marriage."

Nicky feels faint, concentrating on keeping a straight face, and bites the inside of her lip, You didn't cry when this man you just married had half a dozen of his 'friends' fuck you simultaneously, in every hole you've got, so don't you dare cry now. The young woman moves next to Michael, who puts his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close, then reaches down with his still free hand. The little girl puts her hand in his, and away they walk, towards where the guests are sitting.

Someone moves in front of her, it's a colleague from work, she takes her hand, accepts her congratulations and her hug smiling, but inside her soul cries, inside her heart dies.

***

When the line of guests wanting to congratulate the happy couple finally dries up Peter leads her back to their table. She can't keep her eyes from drifting time and again to where Michael and his girlfriend are sitting, their mutual friends swarming around them, happily chatting them up. She has regained some control again by now, remembering that short look managed inside his eyes, that short look inside his soul, before he pulled up this curtain. You didn't trust him and hurt him to the bone, you deserve what you got. Him finding happiness with this beautiful young girl, and you becoming Peter's personal whore.

After a good half an hour or so she notices the three of them getting up again, starting to move in the direction of the exit, and realizes they are leaving. Normally you would say your goodbyes to the wedding couple before doing so, but they clearly aren't going to. On their way out people that know Michael are constantly stopping them, Peter is busy talking to one of his friends, "I need to visit the toilet," she says to him. He just nods, she gets up and quickly walks towards the exit, where both the toilets and the cloakroom are located.

Once in the corridor, and out of sight of the guests inside, she leans against the wall and waits. It takes long minutes for Michael and his girls to appear. He stops the moment he notices her, she slowly walks up to him. His girlfriend is standing next to him, her little girl leaning into her, her dark blue eyes are blazing, the message is clear. She stops in front of him, "I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am Michael, how sorry I am for hurting you. There are reasons for what I did, reasons I can't talk about." She feels her eyes moistening, "I'm surprised you came to the wedding."

His face looks harsh, he pulls an envelope from his inside pocket, picks a card out of it, shows it to her. "Well, you did send me an invitation." She recognizes her own wedding card, but she still doesn't understand, he turns the invitation around, showing her the backside, "And thanks for the personal note you added."

She reads the handwritten message, her hand comes up and covers her mouth, it's her handwriting, but she didn't write it! She feels tears start to run down her face, locks eyes with him, "Michael, I didn't write that!"

His face turns a bit red, "It's your fucking handwriting Nicky."

She takes a step back, nearly stumbling over the hem of her wedding dress. She realizes Peter must have forged her handwriting somehow, that he set all of this up, to hurt Michael. "I'm so sorry.., I didn't..," then she realizes that Michael simply isn't going to believe anything she says anymore. She turns and flees, into the ladies room, locks herself inside a cubicle. She drops down on top the toilet seat, buries her face into her hands, then breaks down sobbing, bemoaning her ruined life.

Part Four

By the time they get home Mischka is sleeping peacefully in her car-seat, not because they have been driving so long, but because of the time -- she's simply exhausted. She only half wakes when he lifts her out of her seat, and he quickly takes her upstairs in his arms, then watches as Natasha puts her to bed. They both kiss her goodnight, and she's in dreamland by the time he switches off the light. He softly closes her bedroom door, and when he turns Natasha is facing him. She smiles, then grabs his necktie and starts walking backwards towards their bedroom, dragging him behind her.

He follows chuckling, "Are you in need, honey?"

She nods back at him, not slowing down, "Yes, very, and we just visited your ex, so I need to mark my territory again."

She drags him inside their bedroom, hitting the light switch on the way in. She stops at the foot of the bed, then steps up to him and starts loosening his tie. She curses softly; the knot has tightened significantly. "That's what you get from trying to hang me first," he smiles, letting his jacket slip from his shoulders, and dropping it on a nearby chair. The knot loosens and her nimble fingers remove the tie entirely, throwing it towards the chair with the jacket draped over it. Then she starts unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his chest. She moans softly, letting the tips of her fingers slide over the smooth skin for a moment.

She slides her hands up his chest, towards his shoulders, lifting the shirt off in the process. He slips his arms out and she throws it in the same direction the tie had gone. Next she drops to her knees, and unlaces his shoes. He lifts his feet one by one, letting her slip the shoes and socks off. Then she stands again, and he can feel her fingers manipulating his belt buckle, a moment later the belt loosens, a button pops, and then she's zipping his fly open. He feels his pants drop down his legs, steps out of them. Her hands move over his shorts, feeling him up through the thin fabric; he's half hard already.

She moans softly, "Hmm, big cock, my big cock." Next she hooks her fingers behind the waist band and starts dragging him with her again, this time to the side of the bed. She pushes him backwards against the edge of the bed, then swiftly pulls his shorts down. He feels them slide down his thighs, then fall on top his feet; he steps out of them too. She puts a finger against his chest, and pushes, "Sit." He obeys silently, curious about what she's up to. She turns around, "Zip." He reaches up and slowly pulls the zipper down, from between her shoulder blades to the top of her round butt.

The green satin splits open as he goes, revealing the creamy skin of her back, her slender waist, the back of her garter belt, the tops of her firm buttocks. She walks over to her dresser, her buttocks shifting, removes her jewelry, then turns around and takes a couple of steps back towards him. She wiggles her hips seductively, then shrugs the dress down her body. He gasps as it slides down her garter-belt encased hips, along her stocking clad legs, before finally pooling around her six inch heels.

She steps out of the dress, kicking it aside, then unclasps the garter belt straps from the tops of her stockings. She winks seductively, hooks her fingers behind the thin straps of her thong and slides it down her hips, revealing a bald pussy.

Michael swallows hard, "You shaved..."

A seductive smile follows, "Yes, no landing strip anymore." The thong slides down her thighs, her calves, and lands on top of her heels. She balances it on the tip of one of them, then kicks it towards him, flashing herself, "Catch." He plucks the garment out of the air, "Now look at it," she says, "and smell how horny I am." The crotch of the thong proves soaked, and he can smell her sweet musk. When he looks up again she's re-attaching the garter belt straps to her stocking tops. So the lingerie is going to stay on.., now that's new. He swallows again.

"Do you remember what I told you before we left for the wedding? Do you remember that I promised you that, after we came home tonight, I was going to do anything for you that you wanted, anything..." She slowly spins around, showing off her stunning figure in the naughty lingerie, then locks eyes with him again, "So now I want to hear about all those naughty fantasies you have..." His eyes have locked on her garter belt framed abdomen, then her stocking clad legs; she simply oozes sex. Her question runs through his head while he drinks her in; he has naughty fantasies for sure, but..."

She smiles softly, "You're shy; are they that naughty?" He blushes, she turns around and bends over, her feet spread shoulder wide, displaying everything. He stares at her pink, wet glistening slit. She places her hands on her buttocks, pulls them apart, drawing his attention to that other, forbidden, opening. Her voice sounds husky, "Would it have something to do with this maybe?" He swallows yet again, she lets go of her butt, then twirls around; he realizes he's blushing.

***

Natasha smiles softly, winking, "Alright, you coward, I'll go first then..." She moves lasciviously, sliding her hands over her stocking clad thighs, "Had I taken that job in Bratislava, or returned there from Paris, I'm pretty sure something much like the outfit I'm currently wearing would have become my work clothes. I have often wondered how that would have been, having to display myself like this to strange men, to seduce them, so they would be willing to pay to fuck me." She moves closer, turns around, then bends over again, exposing herself, barely a foot from his face, "Feel me," she groans, "feel my horny holes. Like those strangers in the brothel would have done."

She's supporting herself with her hands on her spread knees. His left hand comes up, fingers sliding beneath a garter belt strap, to the top of her left butt cheek, then his right one comes up too. He slides his fingertips between her slightly spread labia, feeling the soft pink insides: she's soaking wet. The smooth flesh spreads for him, and she moans softly as his fingers slide up towards her dripping opening. He teases her with his middle finger, then puts his three largest fingers together and pushes them all the way inside. A muffled wail escapes her, as he feels the texture of her tight sheath, moving his thumb down to her anus.

He rubs her small wrinkled pink star slowly, feeling her sheath contract around his fingers in response, a lustful whimper escaping her. He had always wondered how it would be, to take a woman in the ass, he had never even dared suggesting it though. He has a big cock, with a lot of girth, and he might tear her. He lifts his thumb, turns his hand, and lets it come down on top of her engorged clit. He massages the soft, moist hood out of the way, baring the little nub hiding inside it, then rubs it directly. Her buttocks tremble, and he feels her starting to move away, "Stay!" She whimpers loudly, but obeys, as she had promised.

He resumes rubbing her, the wail starting softly, then growing in volume as he feels her sheath starting to clamp down on his fingers. The wail becomes a muffled scream, as she arches her back, then she explodes around his fingers, her hot juices squirting out of her rippling pussy. Her knees buckle, she sinks down on them, bending over in the process, sticking her buttocks up. His fingers are still inside of her, his thumb is still rubbing her. She shakes, but keeps cumming, as he slowly releases the pressure on her clit, letting her come down slowly.

After a minute or so he pulls his fingers out of her still slightly trembling sheath, an obscene slurping sound results, drawing a humiliated moan from her. She's face down on the floor, her cheek pressed down on the carpet, he caresses her buttocks softly, his voice sounds amused, "Was that good for you honey?"

She whimpers loud, still breathing hard, "God.., I never came that hard before.., and you weren't even fucking me!" She stays still for a moment, regaining control over her breathing, "Standing bent over in front of you like that, dressed up like a whore, knowing you were looking at everything up close... It must be that that made me come so hard."

He chuckles, "I see, do you want to play some more?"

She moans loud, "I haven't satisfied my customer yet, have I..."

He lets himself slide down off the bed, landing on his knees behind her, then bends over her, "Would you like me to use.., well.., derogatory language?" he whispers in her ear.

She moans exited, "Oh.., yes.., please..."

He gets up, moving in front of her, "Get up whore, get on top of the bed, on all fours." She scrambles up as ordered, pointing her bubble butt towards him, while whimpering softly. He walks over to where his pants are lying on the floor, her eyes following him. He picks them up, and gets his wallet out of the pocket before dropping them on top of his jacket. He then moves back behind her, "I bet Slovakian whores are cheap, even the very pretty ones like you." She moans excited, he opens the zipper on his wallet slowly, rustles a bit with the banknotes inside, then pulls out a ten Euro note and drops it on the bed in front of her.

She moans loud, her eyes having locked on the ten Euro note, "Now show me how wide a Slovakian whore will spread for a lousy ten Euros." She whimpers, sinks down on her elbows, then spreads her knees wide, arching her back in the process. In her heels, garter belt, and stockings, she's a sight to behold. He chuckles, "As far as she can manage apparently..." He closes in on her, zips the wallet closed again and drops it on the bed next to her. "Now how would a cheap whore like you get fucked do you think?" he asks. Taking in her garter belt framed butt.

Another lustful moan escapes her, "Sex without love.., for money..., I bet it would be rough.., with the customer only interested in his own pleasure."

He reaches out and lightly slaps her buttocks, "Now move that cunt a bit back whore, so I can fuck you standing. And for ten Euros it better be good." She shuffles backwards, her six inch heels protruding over the side of the bed. He positions himself between them, then reaches down and cups her pussy. She trembles, he can feel her wetness accumulate between his fingers, pushes his middle finger all the way inside her. She whimpers again, "Are you always this wet whore?"

Her voice sounds slightly amused, "Only for you, sir..."

He bends over her again, "Are you sure you want a really hard fuck?" he whispers, "or is the dirty language enough?"

"No!" She reacts, "Use me hard, like a whore; fuck me bendy-legged." He can see her blush, "And keep up the dirty language."

"Aren't you forgetting something? Wouldn't a whore want for a customer to use a condom?"

She moans lustfully, "Please sir, you have to use a condom!"

He chuckles, "For ten Euro's you're going to take it bareback, slut!" He's still cupping her pussy; he can feel how much his language excites her, as he closes his fingers on her clit and kneads it roughly. She trembles, he pumps her a couple of times; she's so slick he's pretty sure he won't be hurting her. "Tell me if I'm being to rough, okay?" he whispers. She just nods. He straightens, places his left hand on her hip, and then uses his right one to rub his fat glans between her slick labia. She moans in anticipation as he pulls his cock up, positions himself against her opening, and pushes just the tip inside.