Valentine's Day Card

Xavier quietly let himself into their apartment to surprise his wife Allysin for St. Valentine's Day. He carried a bouquet of roses and an orchid, a nice pink and lavender card, and a diamond pendant he purchased on the Jewelry Channel late one night. Their living room was empty, as was the kitchen, his study, and her office. Taylor Swift's "Lover" played softly over Alexa. The aroma of scented candles wafted through the air. The late winter setting sun's weak light drew him toward the shadowy bedroom. He heard what sounded like a rhythmic cupped clapping. He tiptoed, peeking in.

Whomp! His heart stopped. Allysin perched naked, astride someone, her thighs along his torso, her legs folded near his hips. Her round white buttocks slid sensuously back and forth over his cock, forcing it deeper within her. Her thin arms were akimbo over her head, holding back her thick brown hair from her neck, and lifting high her firm, full breasts. The cupped clapping was the sound of his wife bouncing on that man's dick. That someone beneath her held his hands firmly over her breasts, teasing her taut nipples. Allysin moaned in satisfaction. Then he glided his hands along her sides until they reached her hips. He grasped a handful of her butt on each side and pulled her repeatedly onto his penis. Allysin shook her head slowly, her long hair whipping from shoulder to shoulder. Her thighs muscles bulged as she built to climax. Xavier almost dropped the flowers where he stood.

His head swam and his eyes lost focus. He forced himself to breathe so he wouldn't pass out. He catalogued the meager cache of weapons in his apartment, wanting to make both of them suffer like he was suffering. He recognized the man underneath his wife. It was Paul, Peggy's husband and his boss. Paul had been overly attentive to Allysin on occasion. Peggy had competed with Allysin throughout college. It looked as though Allysin has finally one-upped poor Peggy for a change.

The worst part? Allysin was entirely comfortable with being seen, touched, held, fucked, and wanted to minutely observe the cocksman who was defiling their marriage. Allysin was wearing her oversized glasses.

Xavier wanted to take the high road, no, the low road. He would divorce her. He would make her grovel. He would make her pay for this. He wanted to kill them both. Maybe he wanted to kill the man and forgive his wife. His skin was clammy and his breathing quick.

He wished he didn't love her so much. All of his options seemed to end with his wife being either humiliated, angry, hurt, or protective of her seducer.

From the bedroom Allysin voiced a feral cat snarl. The growl grew into a sexual moan and then a series of gasps and screams. She shuddered in ecstasy, arching her torso so her nipples pointed toward the ceiling. Leaning back, her hands grasped Paul's knees as she finished shaking. Now it was his turn. He pushed deeper into her and she gasped with each lift of his buttocks off the bed. Then Allysin collapsed onto his chest, nuzzling his neck, and they both started to laugh.

In that moment, he knew that his perfect marriage was a sham. He silently backpedaled from the scene of the afternoon betrayal and placed the roses and orchid in the hallway trash on his way out. He emptied the St. Valentine's envelope and kept the card. The diamond pendant in its box remained in his pocket. Taylor Swift's songs mocked him on the way out.

He got to the car and screeched the tires out of the parking garage, no destination in mind. He thought first and deeply about his wife, Allysin. The emotional bond to her had seemed like a hawser attaching a schooner to the dock, solid, sturdy, flexible. It had been snapped as easily as a thread around a button. Was it all her doing? Was it his boss Paul? Or did he have a part in changing his sweet kindergarten teacher into a randy adulteress?

On the occasions he had traveled for work, he sometimes took Allysin along when her school was on vacation. His personal favorite trip had been junket to the South of France, with his boss Paul and his wife Peggy. He thought it was Peggy's choice to stay near a clothing-optional beach. But maybe it was his boss's lecherous plan all along.

Allysin had always been body shy. She fought visiting the beach. It wasn't appropriate for a kindergarten teacher to be sunning topless before God and the world. She bit her nails, hid under a large floppy hat, trying to focus on the heavy book she had brought. She did occasionally check out the topless and nude women enjoying themselves. Paul's wife Peggy had no compunction about sunning herself. She'd had plastic surgery to improve her trophy wife image and was unafraid to flaunt herself.

Xavier caught Allysin checking out the men and smiling, but she blushed whenever he mentioned it or Paul teased her about it. Finally a compromise was reached. Allysin agreed to remove her top, but first she removed her oversized glasses. Since she couldn't see anyone else, she could pretend no one stared at her. Xavier knew every Frenchman there thanked their stars for her lovely figure. But Allysin herself was poised and unaffected; she couldn't see the way the men looked and pointed and commented one to another. At the end of the afternoon, when Xavier and Allysin returned to their hotel room, a pent-up, unusual sexual frenxy exploded in a wild and memorable fuck session.

That was then. Xavier kept driving aimlessly, taking random turns on unknown boulevards, leading to unfamiliar commercial areas. He pushed on, as though drawn to a rendezvous he hadn't planned. His mind was burdened with his thoughts of Allysin, and he recalled another occasion with his boss.

Last summer, Xavier and Allysin attended a pool party at Paul's mansion. Bikinis on the women were required per the invitation. Despite Peggy's recent touch-up surgery, it was Allysin who stunned everyone in her neon green two-piece. After a few hours and far too many drinks, everyone frolicked in the large pool, splashing and playing grab-ass. A game of chicken to knock the women off their partner's shoulders began. Peggy was quick to wrap her legs around Xavier's neck; Allysin, wearing her oversized glasses, was left to balance her ass on Paul's brawny shoulders.

About eight competitive couples participated, while the rest of the thirty guests swallowed drinks and surrounded the pool. The screams and laughter rose in intensity as the bikinis slipped. Peggy seemed determined to strip the opposing women before dunking them in the pool. Her own thong-sized covering disappeared almost immediately and she reveled in her exposure. She was very proud of her plastic surgeon's work. Xavier could feel the stubble of her landing strip on the back of his neck as she rocked forward and back, grabbing and swiping. When she crouched, her heavy breasts balanced on his head.

Six women quickly fell victim to Peggy's grasping fingers. Getting into the party's vibe, they didn't mind being stripped topless or in three cases, completely nude. Their husbands or boyfriends didn't mind displaying them, either. Finally, it was just two couples left struggling in the pool--wild Amazon Peggy astride her steed Xavier, and shy Allysin on dodging, dancing Paul. It should have ended there, since Allysin was the last one still clothed and therefore the winner, but Peggy was determined to steal Allysin's neon green two-piece covering.

Peggy snatched wildly at Allysin and loosened her bottom ties first. Her bottom panels flapped, revealing her cute ass, as sexually provocative as a white-tailed deer's rear. Pool water streaked her glasses. She struggled to clear them and still keep her balance and her top. Then Peggy dove full-length at Allysin, ripping her hot green bra off as she fell into the pool. Allysin's petite hands barely covered her breasts as she fell. Her bottoms floated to the center of the pool. She held herself tightly and screamed for a towel as several men dove underwater near her. She wouldn't come out of the pool until Xavier brought her something to cover herself. Paul beat him to a towel. Allysin briefly flashed everyone pulling herself from the pool, but Paul held her snugly in a fluffy, colorful beach towel. Her long brown hair was thick and wet down her shapely back. She leaned into him as he led her into the changing room. Her streaky glasses were abandoned on the pool deck.

Xavier picked them up. Peggy pulled herself out of the pool, naked and dripping wet, and gave him a full body hug, unashamedly. The party guests applauded when she positioned his hands on her own sculpted ass and kissed his cheek. He politely pushed her away, and followed Allysin to the changing area. Paul waited outside her door. Xavier held her glasses in his hand and knocked, a timid tap-tap.

"Oh, come on in," she said. Paul shrugged, smiled, and left to return to his guests without speaking.

Did she know who had knocked?

Xavier drove until the gas gauge read E. He stopped in the parking lot of a skanky strip joint that charged double the price for its drinks. Throbbing music punished him the moment he walked in the door. The black-painted stage held three chrome poles reaching from the floor to the ceiling. Spotlights glared off oiled bodies of bored, writhing dancers who sequentially mounted the stage. They entered the stage in ornate but easily removed costumes, scanning the audience for the easiest mark. Then the ecdysiast would provocatively, she hoped, remove each item of clothing until she had wrung the maximum dollar bills from the mark, and removed everything from her body except her wild tattoos and the flashy glitter. Then the next dancer would appear. One dancer entered dressed like a primary school teacher. Xavier turned away and nursed his beer, his back to the black stage.

A small Oriental woman with fine, black hair reaching to the middle of her back was the last woman on the stage before a long break. Two things struck Xavier about her. She had perfectly straight bangs cut to reveal her petite face and when she was completely nude, her body was free of tattoos, but not glitter.

After her set, she surprised him by sitting next to him, still naked as a goldfish, one thin leg crossed over the other. She smiled her invitation.

He smiled weakly back. "Are you old enough to be working here?"

"I 21. Ask any of the other girl. They all 21, like me. 21 year old."

Xavier looked around the place and saw a variety of ages in the performers. One platinum blond looked to be a contemporary of Dolly Parton. He pointed to her. "She's 21?"

"21. Hard life though." She swung her crossed leg nervously.

All the performers in the place looked as though they had been ridden hard and put away wet, not just faux Dolly. The exception was this small Oriental girl next to him.

"How old you?" she asked.

"I've aged at least a century just today. So I can't say for sure how old I am."

"Why you no drink? You wanna talk, Mister?"

"I'm here to think about my ruined life. Why don't you put on some clothes?"

She looked up at him through long dark lashes. "Why clothes? Men just want to strip 'em off me, see everything, Mister. But once clothes off, men no longer interested. They leave me alone. Even you don't care my body naked. Right?"

Xavier smiled. Her flawless skin was an even cinnamon brown all over. Her hair was black as a raven's shoulder. Her lips naturally formed a bow, with a hint of the pearly teeth underneath. Her scary eyes, though, were hard and black as obsidian.

"You buy me drink or they kick you to street, Mister. You no buy for past hour. This no charity office. My boss sent me to tell you. So you buy me drink."

Xavier noticed how dainty the curves of her ass were, how tiny her perfect nipples. Each breast was as small as Allyson's petite nose, and each ass cheek was no more than the size of one of Allyson's boobs. He wanted to see her pussy, too, to compare it to something, anything of Allysin's.

"I don't even know your name. And cover yourself if you want to sit with me."

"Why? You got big hard-on for me? Anyway, bosses take my clothes, the bastards. Buy me drink, Mister. We talk. I talk you, help you think. Other girls, 21 but with hard life, will bother you if I leave. You won't be alone. None of them pretty 21 year old like me."

"Fine. What are you drinking?"

She motioned to one of the bartenders, holding up two fingers with one hand and making a noise with her mouth, POP. The bartender nodded, sent over two magnums of champagne.

"Two?" He looked at her skeptically. "We don't really need two bottles."

"Don't worry. Not 100% champagne."

One bottle was uncorked explosively and a foamy bit poured into two tulip glasses. She toasted with Xavier, then lifted her glass a little higher to show whatever manager was watching her that she had gotten her mark to buy some expensive liquor.

"My name Summer, Mister. " She took a dainty sip, then placed the drink on the counter behind them.

Xavier drank his share in one long swallow, then placed his glass to be refilled. "That's a stripper name, not your real name, is it?"

"I from Ho Chin Minh City. But American, now. Summer is American name. We go to VIP lounge, Mister. We can be alone there. Talk. Take drinks, too. Maybe I give you lap dance."

"I bought the damn drink. Can't you leave me alone?"

"Maybe I want talk you. Okay, Mister?"

Sliding off the stool, she stood in slippered feet. She came up to his chest and leaned close to him. Her raven hair was smooth and shiny in the uneven lights of the club. She pulled him off his stool by his arm.

Summer led the way, taking small, cautious steps on the sticky floor. Her butt jiggled with each step. Her long hair swung across her back, but her rigid torso stayed upright. At the VIP Lounge, a burly bouncer a head taller than Xavier stopped them. She pointed to Xavier, who emptied his wallet to pay for the use of the lounge.

On the way in, she twisted a dial on the wall. The music that had been blasting was suddenly muffled.

"You no regret this, Mister."

When he entered the empty room, he could have been diving into an underwater tank. Everything in the place was bathed in a fluorescent blue light. Tiny LED lights sparkled oddly in unusual places. The pounding beat of the main room had changed into a throbbing pulse, as though the room had a heartbeat. Two couches against each side wall looked a purple, since their original color was a deep, sexual red. In the center of the room a single chair was bolted to the floor. Xavier could imagine what had happened on that chair.

"You give me lap dance, Mister?"

Xavier laughed. The girl sat on a stool and crossed her leg again. She swung it nervously. She held her fingers like she wanted a cigarette or something. She pointed to the champagne and waited for Xavier to pour.

"You have bad day, eh, Mister?"

"I had the worst day."

"You tell Summer. I listen. I tell you what to do to make you feel better."

"Not a lap dance, okay?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Good lap dance cure lot of stress."

He laughed again and drank another glass.

Summer led him to the couch then sat down next to him. Her narrow legs folded under her. He could see just a bit of her pussy. Then she took her fingers and played with locks of his hair. "Now, you tell Summer your hurt. Come on. We not got all day, Mister."

What did it matter? Xavier wanted to voice his pain to someone, even a perfect stranger. So, he told her.

"I found my wife fucking my boss today. In our bed."

"You kill them?"

He shook his head. "No, I loved her. She killed me."

Summer took his head and pulled it onto her shoulder. She patted his shoulder and ran her fingers through his hair. He couldn't help himself. He began to weep, quietly, but deeply. She let him.

After a while their positions changed. Xavier's head rested on her lap and soft thighs as she stroked his head. She was very quiet, as though something bothered her. It was probably the fact he had shown such womanly emotion.

"Love, she a bitch, Mister," she said.

He nodded, enjoying the soft feel of her legs against his cheeks.

"You better now, Mister?"

He nodded again, sat up, and exhaled completely. He looked at her, but she avoided his eyes.

"There. Now you want lap dance, Mister?"

"No, Summer. You tell me. What's bothering you? Why did your bosses take your clothes? What do they want from you?"

The leg pumped even faster. "You wouldn't get it, Mister."

"Try me."

She took a deep breath, exhaled, and sat straighter in the chair. She hooked her heels over a crossbar beneath her on the stool, and put her hands on her knees.

"They want my ass."

That brought smile to Xavier's face. "Come on. Tell me."

"I happy to dance on stage. I happy to get losers to buy champagne. I happy to lap dance for the right man and for big money. But that not enough. Bosses want me do porn."

Xavier chuckled. "You're already naked. How many men have seen you already? Is porn really such a big deal?"

"Yes. Very, very big deal. They want take pictures and videos on me with other men. Many, many men. Doing bad things. How you like a dick up your ass?"

"What?"

"I don't want to have men's dicks pushing in there. I especially don't want men's dicks up my little ass."

"Good God!"

"They pay me do anal. Big, bit audience. First time anal, young Oriental girl. Big money for them. Pain and pennies for me."

"Don't do it, then."

"Do I have choice? They control clubs here. I their bitch. They take my clothes. What can I do? It'll only hurt for a week, they say."

Xavier put his hand on her shoulder, underneath the sombre silky curtain of her hair. "I can help you. I can talk with them. Now or later."

"Not now. I still working."

"So quit. I'll help you get a decent job, okay? You want to meet me tomorrow?"

"What?"

"Any place you say. I'll meet you. I'll help you get another job. Not stripping, though."

"I'm not educated for American jobs."

"I'll figure something out."

A slight smile showed on her bow-shaped lips and in her obsidian eyes, which seemed less scary now. She stood up, as high as Xavier's shoulder. She leaned into him and embraced him, her naked breasts pressed against his chest, and her round thighs pushing into his own legs. If she felt the hard-on that he was building, she didn't seem to care.

"Where should we meet, Summer?" She didn't answer at first. Instead she shook her head and she buried her face into his shoulder. Xavier put his arms around her narrow torso. His hands slipped lower until they were at her hips. He nearly encircled her narrow waist with his large hands.

"Okay. Do you know the Mid-town Cafe?" He gave her the intersection where the coffee shop was located. He took out the St. Valentine's Day Card from his pocket, and wrote the directions for her and the time to meet--11:00am.

She took the card like it was a precious thing.

"Don't read the card. Just keep the address."

"This card for cheating wife, yes? She a fool." Her eyes, welling with tears, looked deeply into his. She raised on her tiptoes, and her lips brushed against his own. Then she ran out of the room, her feet arched like she was avoiding hot coals.

Xavier left one bottle on the table in front of one of the couches, and took the unopened one with him into the main room. He planted it next to him, while he waited for Summer to do her act again. After an hour, he was still waiting. He finished off the bottle in another 30 minutes, and still Summer had not appeared.

Another girl sat next to him. She wore a pink negligee over her naked body. She was the faux Dolly he had seen earlier.

"Buy a girl a drink, sailor?"

"I'm waiting for Summer," he said.

"Yer gonna be waitin' quite a while. Summer quit."