Too Much of a Gentleman

Wow! I cannot believe all the feedback I received for 'Teaching the Cocktease.' Thank you all so much! I'm glad to see my fantasies make you hot as well. =)

Some people were also rather upset with me regarding Scarlett's age. I'm pretty sure I said she was eighteen in the story...(in fact I'm sure I did)...but just to be safe I will mention it up here. Scarlett is eighteen.

This work is also completely fictitious. Anderson, however, is real. *Sigh* If he only knew what he was missing out on...

*

"Andy, honey? Are you coming down soon? We have to leave. The opera starts in a little over an hour!"

"I'll be right down!" Anderson Walker called over his shoulder. He rolled his eyes, thankful that he was upstairs in the bedroom and his wife Carla couldn't see him. God forbid they be late to the opera. He continued with his task at hand, packing the suitcase that lay open on the bed in preparation for their night out.

In Anderson's opinion, the night out was much needed. Work had been especially stressful lately. The credit company he worked for had recently been bought out by a larger corporation, causing lots of changes and an increase in paperwork. Anderson had been pulling the weight of several slacking employees lately, and had yet to see a change in his compensation. To make matters worse, he'd recently suggested implementing a new system to his supervisor, who in turn pitched the idea to the boss. Anderson's supervisor had taken credit for the idea as if it were his own and earned himself a sizeable bonus in the process.

Anderson never spoke up about the unfair situation. He preferred to glare at his supervisor from afar like a stubborn child; sulk in his cubicle and avoid the break room like it was an incubator for some kind of plague. He knew he'd been wronged and it certainly bothered him, but bringing the topic to light would only ruffle feathers. In his mind, it wasn't worth speaking up if it meant making others angry with him. He would rather be unhappy himself than risk making someone else upset.

His friends often called him a pushover, a doormat. One friend even joked that the doctor had made a slip during his vasectomy and removed his testicles entirely. Anderson usually just laughed it off, but part of him knew their accusations were true. His reserved demeanor left him unsatisfied in all aspects of his life, and his marriage was no exception.

Having been married for fifteen years, it was understandable that the once vibrant sparks would have dimmed. However, Anderson was starting to wonder if the sparks had ever been bright at all. He and Carla were great friends, but their relationship seemed to mirror that of brother and sister more than husband and wife.

Their sex life had always been bland. Missionary position only. No oral sex. Anal play was out of the question. Condoms were a necessity. Sure, part of the reason you got a vasectomy was so you wouldn't have to worry about your wife getting pregnant, but if Anderson wasn't mistaken, he thought another reason was so that you could cum inside your wife's pussy without the suffocating barrier of latex. More and more he was starting to realize the things he would never get to experience. It wasn't like he was interested in whipping Carla with a leather strap and engaging in water sports either; he just wanted to try a new position. Or get a blow job.

He'd worked up the courage to ask her for oral sex one time, but she shook her head, curled her lips up in disgust and said "The thought of putting your penis in my mouth is disgusting." Anderson could have argued with her until he was blue in the face, fought his case by citing the number of times he'd gone down on her and noted she didn't exactly taste like candy, but he didn't. He simply nodded and agreed to missionary again, telling himself he should just be happy he was getting sex. After all, it had been three and half months and it sure beat masturbating by himself as he normally did every night while Carla was in the shower.

Anderson finished packing his clothes into the suitcase and zipped it shut. He checked himself in the mirror once, straightening his tie before descending down the staircase with the suitcase in hand. He rounded the corner and entered the kitchen where his wife was standing and waiting.

Carla Walker resembled a mature Marcia Brady. She was about five-foot-six with long straight blonde hair. Her figure was rather boyish and her face was always makeup free. Her breasts were an average B cup, a considerable step up from the AAA she was in high school. Unfortunately though, after her enhancement surgery her nipples had lost all sense of feeling. She told Anderson that touching her nipples felt no different from touching the skin of her arm. It was exactly the same.

Anderson gave Carla's cheek a quick peck and let his hand roam from her upper thigh to her hip, to her waist and back down again.

"I can't wait for tonight," he whispered into her ear. Tonight was a tradeoff of sorts. He was putting up with the opera so Carla would put out afterwards in the hotel suite. "I want you so much." He knew he was pressing his limits when he gently groped her hip and pulled her close, but he couldn't help it. This time it had been five months since their last love making session.

"I don't know, honey," Carla's tone was vague as she pushed his hand away. "I have a headache."

Anderson frowned and ran his fingers through his unruly brown curls. How many "headaches" could one woman possibly get? He considered pointing out that they were headed to an opera and if she truly had a headache that perhaps they should stay home, but as he opened his mouth he was interrupted by a sharp knock at the front door. Carla turned away from him and scurried down the hall to answer it.

She returned to the kitchen with a young girl following behind her. Anderson made a small unintelligible noise at the sight of her. He clutched the kitchen counter as he felt his knees weaken.

The girl was gorgeous. Long reddish brown waves framed the face of a porcelain doll. Her big blue eyes were enhanced by just the right amount of makeup, and her lips were a ravishing shade of cherry red. She had an hourglass shape and she worked it well. Tight dark jeans hugged the curve of her hips and the white long-sleeved tee she wore was entirely transparent, showcasing the black bra she wore, lace and all.

"Andy, honey," Anderson heard Carla's voice, but couldn't find the words to answer. All the blood from his brain was being supplied down to his cock, making it grow. "This is Scarlett Gray," Carla continued. "She lives a few houses down. She's going to watch Lady tonight while we're away."

Anderson nodded lamely, just now noticing the overnight bag in the girl's hands. It wasn't surprising to him that his wife would request someone to baby-sit their pet Pomeranian while they were away. She was practically in love with the animal, sometimes kicking Anderson out of bed in order to give Lady unrestricted access to his pillow.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Walker," Scarlett stepped forward and smiled. "I'll take good care of Lady, I promise."

Anderson nodded again. His eyes raked her body and he couldn't help his tongue from darting out and dragging across his bottom lip. As he did so, he noticed one side of Scarlett's mouth turn up into a lopsided smirk.

"I'm just going to run upstairs and get my coat. I'll be right back," Carla suddenly announced. She placed her hand on Scarlett's shoulder as she exited the kitchen. "Make yourself at home, dear."

Scarlett picked up her overnight bag and hopped up onto the kitchen counter adjacent to where Anderson stood, his fingers still clenched and digging into the countertop. He watched as she spread her legs wide and settled the bag in between.

"So the opera, huh?" She asked as she rummaged through her bag. "Yikes. What did you to deserve that?"

"Um...Nothing," Anderson answered honestly.

"Nothing? Surely you must have done something. Maybe you just don't remember. Did you insult a new haircut? Forget an anniversary?"

"No...I just wanted to take her to the opera. There's no special reason." Anderson rocked back and forth on his heels, trying to ignore the way Scarlett's sweater gaped open in the front when she leaned forward. He could see straight down her shirt. Her breasts were firm, nestled in the cups of her bra and straining to break free. He cleared his throat nervously as she looked up at him through her lashes.

"No special reason?" Scarlett laughed. "I'm sorry, but I don't buy that. No man willingly goes to the opera with his wife." She found what she was looking for in her bag and pulled it free. She held a small Tupperware container out to Anderson. "Cupcake? It was my eighteenth birthday yesterday. I brought you and your wife some extras."

Anderson's mouth began to water. He could see the pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles through the clear container, calling to him like seductive sirens. He wasn't allowed to have sweets. Carla banned them from the house.

"No," he shook his head. "I shouldn't. Thank you though."

"Are you sure?" Scarlett popped the lid open and the sweet scent of sugar wafted out. She dipped her pointer finger into the icing and removed a large dollop. She slipped her finger into her mouth and moaned in approval. "Mmm." She sucked hard on her finger and drew it in and out of her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip to clean up every last trace. "Soooo good."

Anderson groaned and tried to cover it up with a hacking cough. He imagined that digit sliding in out of her mouth was his cock, which was now fully erect and fighting to spring free from his pants. He turned his hips so his lower half was hidden behind the island table and adjusted his pants. He tried to be discreet, but the coy smile that spread across Scarlett's lips when he glanced up at her led him to believe how obvious he'd been.

Scarlett dropped her bag to the floor and leaned forward so her elbows were on her knees. She dipped her finger back into the icing and offered it to Anderson.

"Are you sure you don't want any?" Her eyes, innocent and wide, blinked up at him and her bottom lip jutted out into a pout. "Just a taste. Please?"

"Oh...I, uh, I, um...."

Anderson tugged at his collar. His necktie suddenly felt awfully restricting. He stared at the dab of icing on Scarlett's finger. Carla would be furious if she knew he'd ingested even an ounce of sugar, not to mention she'd be angry if she knew that ounce of sugar had been sucked off of an eighteen year old's finger. He didn't want to chance upsetting his wife, no matter what the throbbing urge between his legs was telling him to do.

"I shouldn't," Anderson declared firmly.

"Okay." Scarlett put the lid back on the container and set it down next to her on the counter. "Your loss," she whispered with a click of her tongue. Her voice was full of implications as she crossed her legs in a very lady-like manner and straightened her sweater so all views of her cleavage were effectively canceled.

Anderson took a step back, stunned. Whether he had bruised this girl's ego or simply hurt her feelings, her flirtatious smile had faded and he was responsible. He wondered if he should apologize.

"I, um, I," he stammered.

"I think I hear your wife," Scarlett's tone was cold and hard. She slid down from the counter, her breasts bouncing softly as she strutted toward Anderson. She placed one hand on his chest and trailed it down his abdomen and inside his suit jacket. Using one of his belt loops, she tugged him forward and hitched her leg around his hip so her pussy was pressed against his thigh.

Anderson gasped at the heat he felt radiating between her legs. All he wanted to do was grab a handful of her ass and shift her a little to the left so that warmth was up against his aching cock, but he was frozen in place, paralyzed with disbelief. No woman had ever come onto him like this before.

"Have a nice evening, Mr. Walker," Scarlett purred in his ear and ground her pussy in a slow circle against him. She let out a tiny whimper and threw her head back, her eyes falling closed at the amount of sheer ecstasy she was receiving from his body. "I certainly hope your wife doesn't notice this." Anderson's eyes widened and he couldn't help the groan that left his mouth when Scarlett reached down gave his cock a firm squeeze. "I'd hate for you to have to explain to her how you got it."

Scarlett pulled away with a playful smirk and removed her hand from inside his jacket. She winked and blew him a kiss before exiting the kitchen, swaying her hips from side to side as she went.

Anderson rushed into the bathroom immediately and splashed a handful of cold water onto his face.

"Fuck," he whispered to himself as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He hadn't been this aroused in years, if ever. He quickly worked the button of his pants open and unzipped his fly. His cock was straining against his boxers, practically screaming for attention by something other than his own hand. He pulled his length free and began a firm stroke up and down.

"Andy? Honey, where are you?" Carla's voice rang through the air like an annoying set of wind chimes, forcing Anderson to halt his movements.

"I, uh, I'm shaving!" Anderson locked the bathroom door and leaned back against it. He continued to palm his cock, swirling his hand around the head and collecting the moisture starting to pool there. "I'll be right out!"

"Well, hurry up. We have to leave right now. We don't want to be late."

There was a soft thud on the bathroom door as Carla leaned up against it, directly on the other side of Anderson. He could almost hear her, tapping her toe as she stared at her watch and growing more and more impatient as the minute hand ticked. He hung his head and sighed.

"Yes, dear," he muttered. There was no way he could rub one out with Carla right on the other side of the door. Anderson tucked himself back in his boxers and zipped his pants. He gave himself one last look in the mirror, his pants unable to mask his erection. He could only hope that Carla fell asleep early tonight. Then he might be able to order some porn in the hotel room and take care of business.

The five-minute ride down to the opera house was uneventful. Carla manned the radio controls as usual, putting on an Italian opera and giving Anderson a bitter taste of what he was in for. When they arrived at the opera house, he had to question why she'd been so adamant about arriving early. The parking lot was dead. Anderson pulled into a space right up front and glanced out the window at the building. A man and his wife were standing outside the front door talking. Anderson noted that the man looked just as excited as he did about the prospective night at the opera.

"Andy, honey? Do you have the tickets?" Carla asked as she leaned over the console to primp her hair in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah, of course." Anderson tapped his jacket pocket. A surge of fear rushed through him when he realized his pockets were empty. His hands fell limply into his lap. "Shit."

"What did I tell you about cursing?"

"Sorry, I meant to say shoot." Anderson unbuckled his seat belt so he could dig in his pants pockets. He pulled his wallet out and thumbed through his dollar bills, hoping the tickets had gotten mixed up with his money.

"Don't tell me you forgot the tickets," Carla pursed her lips and gave Anderson a haughty look. Anderson shrugged sheepishly and continued patting his pockets. "Anderson Michael Walker, I only gave you one thing to be responsible for. I swear, you would lose your head if it wasn't attached!"

"I could have sworn they were in my jacket pocket." Anderson frowned down at his lap as though the tickets would just magically appear in front of him and save the night.

"Well you're lucky we came early. You still have plenty of time to run home and get them before the opera starts. Go now. I'll go inside and wait."

Carla opened the door and was halfway across the parking lot before Anderson could protest. He watched her enter the building through narrowed slits. Part of him just wanted to leave her there while he went home and caught the last half of the football game. He sighed and shoved the key back into the ignition. The engine started with a roar and he peeled out of the parking lot.

"Goddammit," Anderson swore once he arrived home. He slammed the car door shut and stomped into his house. As if it wasn't enough that Carla had a "headache", now he'd forgotten the tickets. If the events stood separately, maybe he'd still stand a chance at getting some action tonight, but the events stood together and Anderson knew there wasn't a shot in hell that he was going to get laid tonight.

"Fuck," he swore again as he trudged up the staircase to the bedroom. He had no idea where the tickets were. He'd have to tear the house apart looking.

He stormed down the hallway to his bedroom. A look of confusion crossed his face when he saw the door was shut. He didn't remember closing it, but maybe Carla had when she'd run back upstairs to get her coat. Anderson pushed the door open silently.

The sight he saw before him made him stop dead in his tracks.

Slouched down in the leather computer chair with her back to him and her legs spread obscenely wide was Scarlett. Her head was tipped back and her breathing was labored. Every so often she let out a quiet moan.

Anderson was so enraptured by the erotic sight before him that he almost didn't notice the vivid images flashing across the computer screen. Scarlett was watching porn, his porn. She'd found his hidden stash. The scene on screen depicted a young schoolgirl and her professor. She was leaned forward on his desk while his hands roamed her bare ass and thighs.

Anderson took a step further into the room and was hit with an overpowering scent. Though foreign to him, the scent was unmistakable. Hot, wet, arousal of the female sex.

"Mmm," he moaned, breathing in deeply.

"Oh! Mr. Walker!" Scarlett exclaimed, seemingly startled by Anderson's appearance. She jumped up from the chair and quickly turned the porno off.

Anderson gasped when Scarlett turned around. She was wearing a pair of black satin shorts that barely offered any coverage. They rode so low on her hips, it was obvious she wasn't wearing any panties. She'd also found and slipped into one of the white button-down shirts he wore to work. It hung wide open, barely concealing her naked breasts.

"I didn't expect you home until tomorrow," Scarlett said as she folded her arms across her chest. The backs of her hands brushed against her covered breasts, just about where Anderson estimated her nipples to be, and Scarlett let out a soft moan. Anderson took a deep breath and choked on the intake of air when her nipples hardened and pushed out against the thin shirt.

"My wife..I...We...I didn't...I forgot..I don't..." he babbled. "I-I-I can't find the tickets. I t-think I left them here."

"Oh. I can help you look for them," Scarlett offered. She spun around and bent over so she could search the floor for the missing tickets. The round, firm cheeks of her ass peeked out from the bottom hem of her shorts and taunted Anderson. He swallowed hard and gripped the doorframe for support. All he could think about was dropping to his knees and rubbing his cheek against those luscious cheeks.

"Oh, God," he ground out through his teeth when Scarlett spun around. Her shirt parted in the subtle breeze created and revealed her breasts. Large and perky, her nipples were dusty pink and just crying out to be sucked on.

"Are you okay?" Scarlett asked innocently. She ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing the ends. "You're shaking."