Valentine, Be Mine Ch. 04

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters herein described and persons living or dead is purely coincidental. However, if the song excerpt seems familiar at all, I'll 'fess up to that.

***

It wasn't a good day at work. Oh hell; it was the pits. I got to work on time – just. I was able to look reasonably presentable, too. It took a while in the bathroom to camouflage the dark circles under my eyes, but I managed. Matt Michaels took me to task because he hadn't been able to reach me on my cell phone. He said his calls kept going directly to voice mail. Of course they did; that phone was shut off and sitting in Helen's desk, its battery removed so it could not be traced by GPS. I told him I had lost my phone and hadn't gotten a new one yet – and no, this really wasn't a good evening for us to get together, but thanks anyway.

A process server served me with papers around 10:00. Well, isn't that the way it usually happens? The cheating spouse files for divorce, takes everything, then humiliates you in front of all of your co-workers; just one more twist of the knife. Correction: two twists. Joanna wasn't filing for divorce. She was appealing to me through her oh-so-prestigious, politically-connected law firm rather than directly, in accordance with my order of protection. She claimed this 'trial separation' of mine was silly and without merit and wanted to reconcile. She wanted to arrange a face-to-face meeting to "correct any misconceptions you might have about our relationship."

Reconcile? Misconceptions?You gotta be kidding me! Would Mary Kelly have taken Jack the Ripper back if he had told her it had all been a silly misunderstanding, he wanted to kiss and make up? I don't think so! Okay, maybe that was kind of an extreme example, but dammit, that's the way I felt. Joanna fucked Jake Holcomb in our bed, I saw her do it, and she implied Imisunderstood? 'It isn't what you think'; is that what she is trying to tell me? What does 'understanding' require; that I lie in bed next to them while they did the deed? Oh yes, and let's not forget she had done her level best to turn me into an insatiable fuckslut like herself; no doubt to justify her own sexual romp. In the process, I lost my marriage, home, career, friends, future and self-respect. How do you 'reconcile' something like that? Somehow, the prospect of marriage counseling didn't quite cut it.

A face-to-face meeting? I was terrified of being in the samearea codeas her, let alone the same room – even if there were other people present. I had visions of her uttering an innocent-sounding code word or phrase that turned me into a robot zombie who would agree to anything she requested. Would I also develop a sudden, uncontrollable compulsion to devour human brains? I wasn't about to find out. I was trembling like a leaf, my eyes brimming with tears, as I dialed Helen's number and told her about the service.

"Helen, why would sheserveme with a request for a meeting?" I inquired, still sniffling. "Why not just contact you?"

"Intimidation," was Helen's terse reply. "We started the game by ambushing her with the order of protection. She's showing us she's ready to play hardball, too. Also, she and her attorneys are preempting any divorce petition we might be ready to file. The Navy would call this 'firing a shot across the bow'. They are letting us know she doesn't want a divorce and is ready to fight. As I told you before, Bobby; if she wants to, she could draw this out a long time. It could get ugly."

"Couldget ugly?" I snorted, glancing down at my bountiful bustline. "What should we do?"

"I'll send a messenger to pick up the papers," Helen responded. "Once I look them over, I'll call her attorneys and we'll start the dance. Let's get together tomorrow after you get off work. I should know more by then. Oh, and if you can, bring the copies of those remaining disks."

***

One bright spot in my day was when Andy Sidarsky asked me out to lunch. He took me to a littletaqueríanot far from our office. Andy is not a big, muscular hunk like Vince or Matt Michaels, but he is no loser, either. He is just an average Joe (a cute one at that) who happens to be an ace cameraman and a whiz in post-production – editing and mixing – as well. He was a camera operator in network sports before the economy tanked and the networks started hemorrhaging jobs like everyone else. He was doing freelance work in the Adult industry to make ends meet while waiting to hitch a ride with one of the 'big boys' again. Andy made me laugh, and I needed a little levity at that particular moment. In light of what I had recently learned about myself and why men were reacting to me the way they were, I was pretty sure Andy had a crush on me.

Did I say he made me laugh? He had me in stitches with a story about catching a nationally-famous play-by-play announcer with his pants down – literally – with a female intern during the previous year's NCAA basketball tournament. According to Andy, his camera was on standby at the time, but a casual flick of a control panel switch would have sent a very compromising image of "Mr. Sports" – hairy ass, bad toupee and all - to millions of living rooms and sports bars from coast to coast.

The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat, the...oops!

That mental image made the burritos andcervezago down so easily – perhaps a little too easily in the latter instance.

Somehow we got around to talking shop. Andy asked me why I was doing my little front-office job when I could do so much better financially in front of a camera. I revealed to him Management had been trying to get me to do that from the beginning, but I wasn't sure I wanted to. I didn't see any point in boring him with the gory details of my life.

"You should," Andy observed, taking a sip from his bottle. "You would be good at it."

He tried to make it sound casual – a littletoocasual. With everything that had been going on in my life at the time, if anyoneotherthan Andy had made that remark, I would have stood up and walked out – most likely after slapping his face. Andy was different; more... I dunno,genuine. His eyes held none of the cold, predatory calculation of a Matt Michaels. If I were to describe the emotion I saw there, it would be more like... longing.

I don't know what made me do it; pure instinct and a beer buzz, I guess. I casually rose to my feet, then re-seated myself on Andy's lap, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Why Mister Sidarsky," I cooed enticingly in his ear, "you little pervert. Would you like to watch me with some big hunk of a man with a great big cock? Perhaps you would like to be the one behind the camera, recording it all, so you could be...closer to the action. Would that turn you on, Andy?"

Damned if it didn't! His erection rose in his jeans like the morning sun. I gently massaged it through the stiff denim while I softly nuzzled the side of his face.

"Why Andy, I believe it does," I purred contentedly. "Youarea dirty little peeper, aren't you? If only you had been a fly on the wall last night. I took on two studs in a cheap motel room, Andy; I meanreal stallions. One had a thick, meaty ten-inch dong. The other was a full twelve! I fucked all night, Andy; first one, then the other, then back to the first. My cunny was so full of cum, it was running down my thighs! Would you have liked to watch that, Andy? Would you have liked to sit in a chair next to the bed and stroke your little pecker while those big, strong bulls made me scream? Perhaps you would have liked to clean me up after – with yourtongue."

I felt him spurt, right in his jeans. He grunted softly, his eyes unfocused. It was so surreal! I mean, here we were, sitting in a restaurant in broad daylight with people all around us, and I had made this man cum just by talking dirty to him. I couldn't believe how...powerfulthat made me feel. For all the girls I had bedded in the past, for all the times I had made love to Joanna, even after the fetish sex with Vince and Steve, this was probably the most erotic thing I had ever done in my life.

Poor Andy! He looked so ashamed. There wasn't anything showing through his jeans yet, but I'm sure his shorts must have been a mess. On the one hand, I reveled in the perverse pleasure of his debasement in so public a manner. On the other, I wanted to...nurturethis man, succor him and salve his pride. I turned his head to face me and kissed him softly on the lips.

"It's okay, Sweetie," I reassured him. "Really it is. To be honest, I thought that was really hot. Why don't you go into the Little Boy's room and clean yourself up? I'll wait for you here. Rinse out your undies, too, and wrap them in some paper towels. Then we can get back to work, okay?"

I watched him make his way to the Men's room, keeping his eyes straight ahead so he couldn't see if anyone was staring at him – and smirking. Dammit, ithadbeen hot! My panties were wet, too, but nowhere near the disaster Andy must have been facing. This was nuts. A couple of hours before, I had been railing against my wife for expecting me to be her willing cuckold. Then I turned around and talked Andy through exactly the same scenario, made him cream in his jeans – and thought it was the hottest thing since five-alarm chili. What waswrongwith me?

I opened my purse, took out my compact, lip brush and lipstick and proceeded to apply a fresh coat of color to my lips, then play with my hair a little – right there in front of a roomful of people. I hadneverdone that before, even when I wasn't aware of what I was doing. I suddenly felt like the Whore of Babylon and was playing the part to the hilt! I mentally cancelled my move to another motel after work. I now had other plans.

I walked hand-in-hand with Andy out to his shiny red Dodge Challenger R/T. He opened my door for me like the consummate gentleman. I snuggled up to him, resting my head on his shoulder, all the way back to the office. As he helped me out of the car, I pressed myself against him and looked deeply into his eyes.

"No one else needs to know about this, okay?" I admonished in a little-girl voice, smoothing out the spread collar of his open-necked polo shirt. "This will be our little secret, yours and mine."

That was for his benefit, more than mine. I didn't think for a moment he would admit to anyone he was a closet cuckold. I just wanted him to know his secret was safe with me. As we turned to go, I took his hand and placed it on my tush so he could feel the smooth, syncopated undulation of my firm, round bottom all the way to the door. I didn't have to salute the flag to know it was flying proudly at full staff.

Once again he held the door for me – and we walked into a Category 5 shitstorm. Lou, the big boss, was having one of his patented hissy fits. He was ready to roll on a scene for his latest production;Fresh Faces #23. The set was ready. The 'furniture' – as inwood; an industry-insider term for the male studmuffin in the piece – was ready. That was Matt Michaels. The crew, including Andy, was on hand andeveryonewas getting paid for their time. The only thing lacking in this happy little scene was its feature; the girl had skipped out. She was new to the business; that's what "fresh faces" means. Apparently, the 'starlet' had gotten cold feet at the last minute and couldn't go through with it. Lou is not pretty in purple – especially from the neck up.

Any office staffer knows this is a no-brainer, right? Duck and cover until the storm blows over – and it always will, eventually - right?Riiiight! None of those office staffers had done what I did over my lunch break – or had heads filled with the thoughts I had at that moment. I grabbed Lou by the collar with one hand, dragged him into his office and shut the door. Ten minutes later, we emerged. Lou was smiling. I was smiling – although I couldn't for the life of me understand why. The boss started barking orders like a drill instructor and warm bodies flew in every direction. Matt just stared at me incredulously, a huge smirk on his lips.Yeah, me too, Big Boy.

The details aren't important. I screamed in all the right places – and didn't have to fake them. I wassomessed up in the head. Yes, Matt's schlong had felt good. Yes, he was an accomplished cocksman and knew how to get the job done. For all of that, I might as well have been doing the Times' crossword puzzle; I just wasn't that into him. Therealturn-on - the one that had made me crazy with lust and driven me to do this in the first place - was the mental image of Andy, behind his camera, salivating over the scene playing out before his eyes. I couldn't look at him; that would mean looking into the camera, which is a complete no-no in the business. I couldsensehis rapt fascination when my secret was revealed, like discovering an 'Easter egg' in a video game. I imagined him unzipping his jeans and beating his meat while Matt was poundinghisinto me. That pushed me over the edge into free-fall.

Lou was ecstatic; we got what he wanted in one take. He called me "a natural" while I was getting dressed and repairing my makeup. He even had Andy take some still shots for the cover art, claiming he was going to make "Eve Evans" (the stage name we had agreed upon) the feature performer in the video. When I had taken him aside in his office and agreed to do the scene, I warned him I was a T-girl. He loved the fetish angle and assured me a hot chick like me with 'a little something extra' would rocket the video's appeal right to Mars. Of course, Matt had known my secret long before that, hadn't he? Lou was so grateful, he told me to take the rest of the afternoon off – with pay, of course. Gee, thanks, Mr. Man. It's comforting to know, after guaranteeing you thousands of dollars in profits, I can take a whole three hours off and still count on that ten dollars an hour – less withholding.

Speaking of Matt, the arrogant ass must have believed, now that I had 'sampled the goods', I wouldn't be able to get enough. He all but twisted my arm to stay after hours. They were doing a scene for a different production that night and he wanted me to stay for it. Fat chance! I excused myself to go to the bathroom to "clean up a bit", grabbed my purse and split. He'll never learn, will he?

Actually, Iwason my way to the bathroom. I had seen Andy slip out a moment earlier. I guessed where he was going and why. He wasn't going to get off that easily – no pun intended. He hadn't even gotten through the bathroom door – much less gotten his cock out of his pants – before I intercepted him. Rubbing up against him suggestively, I wheedled/cajoled/demanded he take me back to my motel roomright away; that I had a very special dish I was keeping warm in the oven for him. We slipped out the same back door I had used to dodge Matt on Valentine's day – and hoped to God thedéjà vuended there.

No sooner were we in Andy's car than I was snuggled up against him and had his tool out of his pants. While he worked the car's stick shift, I worked his; nice and slow. It was enough to make him hard as steel, but not enough to get him off. He had a nice, thick seven-incher; not a world-beater, perhaps, but it definitely had potential.

We made it back to the motel by 2:30. Once we were inside, I was out of my clothes even faster than I had gotten into them. When I removed my snug panties, the dam burst – and Matt Michael's thick seed gushed out. One hearty shove had Mr. Sidarsky lying face-up on the bed. I rode that face, reverse-cowgirl style, so my new 'fan' could get intimately acquainted with the object of his desire. At the same time, I was giving him a soft, languorous blowjob, gently caressing his balls, just to keep him motivated. There was no way I was gonna allow him to cum until I was good and ready.

"Clean me out, Sweetie," I admonished him. "Get every drop of my lover's cream pie. Swallow it all, Baby; don't waste a bit. Then you can have your turn with me."

Matt Michaels – mylover? That's bending the truth a little – like, over backwards – but Andy was worth it. His cock was so hard, it was throbbing. If I had to act a little to make it good for him, I wouldn't complain. How could I? That thing about women experiencing a string of rapid-fire orgasms while their partner eats another man's cum out of their love nestis no lie– even for a T-girl. Maybe I just had the right attitude for it.

When I decided he had performed his task to my satisfaction (boy, had he!), it was time to make Randy Andy a happy camper. It isn't 'sloppy seconds' if I make him clean me first, is it? I turned around, impaled myself on his turgid tentpole, then leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips while I rode his rod.

"Ooooo, Andy," I cooed sweetly. "I'm so stretched out, I can't even feel you..."

That wassobogus. I felt himjust fine, but I was really getting into the mindset of this fantasy now.

"Make it good for yourself, Baby," I mewed, gazing at him adoringly and softly stroking the side of his face, "I want it to be everything you have ever wanted – even if it doesn't do anything for me."

Liar, liar, pants on fire. Playing this game with Andy was such a huge turn-on for me, I was nearly bouncing off the walls. This time, I was the consummate actress insuppressingmy screams while I rumbled through an 8.0 seismic event as my 'cuckold' blew his load into me. I mean, I had to maintain the façade of the cheating slut wife who was allowing her wimp husband to masturbate inside her loose, sloppy pussy after a 'real man' had given her what she really needed. Andy was living for it and so was I. Of course, that meant he had another cream pie to clean up, didn't it? I felt like the Wicked Witch of the West as I admonished him to "do the goo." At least I stifled the cackle.

It's amazing what thoughts go through a girl's head in the afterglow of really good sex. I was in no hurry to shove Andy out the door, as I had the others. I was perfectly content to lay there in his arms, snuggled up to him. For the first time since that horrendous Valentine's Day debacle, I felt...safe, secure, protected. That was ludicrous. Any one of the men I had been with before him would have been a much more intimidating bodyguard if the situation called for it. Perhaps it was because Andy and I had touched each other on an intimateemotionallevel. I hadn't experienced that since leaving Joanna. I had previously thought of Vince as 'husband material' and I suppose he still was, but there was just something about this new connection with Andy....

As for my intention to not give my wife any ammunition to use against me in our upcoming divorce, that strategy was now shot to hell. The video showing me being fucked stupid by Matt Michaels – with my face on the cover, no less - would soon be in adult stores from coast to coast. Then again, Joanna had indicated she didn'twanta divorce and would fight to prevent it. Would she use this new evidence to blackmail me intoreturningto her instead, forcing me to be her unwilling sissy-slut cuckold? How would she do that? She had already estranged me from everyone who might possibly care. Even if I couldn't useherdisks in court to prove her infidelity, I could still ruin her with them. She had to know that.

And what about me?AmI all that 'unwilling'? I realized I had been lying here, thinking of myself as agirl. I had certainly been dressing and acting the part of late. The great sex I had been having in the last few days – withmen– seemed to validate that perception. There was nothing remotely masculine, or even demure, about the wardrobe I had acquired, and continued to acquire, since leaving my wife. Was all this the result of Joanna's brainwashing efforts - or something else? I managed to put all of it aside as Andy and I drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.