From Barbara to Barbie Pt. 2bybobfr©
It would be helpful if you read "From Barbara to Barbie" before reading this story. Also, if you don't like stories where the characters are developed sufficiently to understand their attitudes and behavior, then this story probably isn't for you. If you do appreciate stories that are, hopefully, both thoughtful and erotic, enjoy the read.
As the yellow cab moved uptown, its passengers were lost in their private thoughts. Barbara snuggled up against her husband and curled her long legs on the seat under her. She was more numb than anything. She was also very tired because it had been nearly twenty-four hours since she had last slept. Shame, the warm afterglow of unimaginable sex, regrets, tingling and lingering excitement and a fear of the future were the melange of contradictory feelings that she was experiencing.
Gordon held his wife and gently rubbed her shoulder. In some ways, this was a more intimate connection than her connections of the previous hours. She cradled her head against his broad chest. What had actually happened was difficult for him to grasp, even though he had been an integral part of it. Well, at least he was an observer, for an hour or so, of the activities that took place in the private club that catered to swinging couples. Did what happened there qualify them as swingers? he asked himself. God how he hated labels, though it hadn't been so long ago that he didn't hesitate to label nearly everyone with whom he came in contact. Whore, slut and tramp, were words he had used to describe Barbara's best friend, Susan. Did those same words now apply to the woman whose tousled blonde hair touched his cheek, his own wife?
The only words that had been spoken during the short ride was Gordon asking, "what do you want to do tomorrow?" And Barbara's answer, "I promised Len that I would have a late lunch with him, he has a proposition he wants to make to me." Then she shared with him her preference for a new name, "Gordon, I love it when you call me Barbara, or Babs but from now on please call me Barbie." They both knew that the new name had a significance beyond how it sounded, it represented a transformation.
As the taxi stopped in front of the Carlyle hotel, the early morning light was creeping over the eastern horizon. A new day was about to begin in the teeming metropolis and a new life had already begun for Barbara and Gordon.
The thick drapes that covered the window in their room completely blocked out the light of the new dawn. Their exhausted bodies told them it was bedtime even though if they had been home, they would soon be waking up. They simultaneously dropped their clothes in piles on each side of the king-size bed and tumbled under the covers. Within seconds they were sleeping deeply.
When Barbara awoke, for a few seconds she didn't know where she was. She padded to the bathroom to pee and was abruptly reminded what had happened during their time at Le Trapeze. The flesh between her legs was tender but also incredibly sensitive. When she swiped the tissue it came in contact with her still engorged clitoris. She was trembling, as if she had too much to drink, but it wasn't alcohol that caused the tremors, it was a sensory overload. The clock on the night stand indicated that it was after noon and, therefore, they had been sleeping for more than seven hours. Barbara couldn't remember the last time they had slept in that late.
Gordon was still sleeping and she didn't want to wake him but she needed to talk with someone so she walked to the wall phone in the bathroom and dialed the familiar number of the only other person she could talk with about what was troubling her. After just one ring she heard Susan's feisty voice. "Hello. You better not be selling anything, I'm not in the mood."
"Hi, it's me. Sounds like this isn't a good time for you to talk." She placed a towel on the marble floor and slid down until her bare buttocks came in contact with the makeshift cushion.
"Oh hi Barb. No this is a good time. I've been bombarded by asshole salesmen all morning and I was ready to give the next one a piece of my mind. What's up?"
Barbara didn't know where to begin. They hadn't had a deep conversation since that night at La Costa more than three weeks ago. That was the night that she had so vociferously defended fidelity. During the brief, superficial telephone conversations since then they had talked about her surgery, getting back into her exercise routine and holding to her weight target. She felt very foolish now because nearly everything that Susan had told her at the spa in California had been confirmed.
"I just got up," Barbara confessed.
"You just got up? You've got to be kidding! I can't remember a morning when you didn't get up with the chickens."
"We're in New York and didn't get to bed until five this morning."
"Okay girl, you've got my undivided attention. I want to know everything and remember . . . I'll know if you're lying to me."
How do you tell your best friend that you spent an evening in a swing club? How do you tell her that you pushed your husband into the arms and between the legs of a pretty Asian while you and her husband watched them fuck? How do you tell her that you were fucked by a monstrous cock attached to a Pakistani doctor. Was it even possible to explain that the good doctor and a black man, who owned more than one escort agency, fucked your pussy and your ass at the same time? How can you explain that even that hadn't been enough for you because for nearly two hours you welcomed the four horny black attendants of the club into your vagina, rectum and mouth? Barbara wasn't concerned about shocking Susan, because Susan was unshockable. However, she was somewhat embarrassed because of her previous declarations about the sanctity of marriage and what she was now beginning to think of as the myth of monogamy.
"Well, Gordon invited me to come with him on this trip and tack on a weekend for us. We had a great dinner and caught a play, then he asked me if I wanted to go with him to a special club." For the first time it dawned on her that if she hadn't accompanied her husband on the trip he probably would have been with Marlene or visited Le Trapeze by himself. "Anyway," she continued, "the place was in the garment district and about as wild as wild can be." She paused before continuing. "Susan, it was a swing club."
"You at a swing club! Are you serious, Barb?"
"Tell me what happened."
Barbara sucked in a lung-full of air and then told Susan every detail, that she could remember, of the long night of forbidden passion. In the end, she explained to her friend that she now had regrets and was feeling sorry for what she had done.
"Give me a break! You just told me that Gordon has been banging this call girl and visiting the same club as a single for over a year. Sounds to me like you've still got some catching up to do."
"Susan, I'm not keeping score. I love my husband but now I'm sure he'll never feel the same way about me again."
"Have you talked with him about your feelings?" Asked Susan.
"No, we haven't really talked since we left the club. He knew that I felt like shit after I was with Rash the first time and that was what prompted him to tell me about Marlene and the club in the first place. He wanted to make me feel better, I guess."
"I just think you might be surprised when you talk with Gordon. I knew, I just knew that he couldn't be the perfect, loyal lawyer-boy, goody-two-shoes husband that you always told me he was."
"Well, lawyer-boy is dead to the world right now."
"So tell me, what are you going to do about having a late lunch with this Lenox guy?" Asked Susan.
Barbara sighed, then said, "oh, I'm not going to call him or ever see him again."
"That's stupid! You only live once. Wish I was there, I'd sure let him make his pitch to me."
Barbara laughed. "I'm sure you would."
"Seriously Barb, what harm can come from a simple lunch? At least call the guy, have lunch with him, it can't hurt to listen. And, now that I think about it, that would give Gordon a taste of his own medicine. If he can be with a call girl, you can be a call girl."
"No, Susan I couldn't be a call girl . . . even if I wanted to, which I don't. Gordon's a lawyer. He would lose his partnership and be disbarred if anyone ever found out." She didn't know if that was true but it sounded good as she said it.
Susan didn't seem to be listening. "You told me that Meg and Troy are serious. Think about it, you could be a grandma in a year or so. The clocks ticking my dear and you've been given a terrific opportunity to make up for lost time, at least for one special weekend."
"You're right about that, I mean you're right about Meg and Troy. I don't know what to do. Just because Gordon fucked around doesn't justify what I did last night or what might happen if I were to call Len."
"What's good for the goose is good for the gander, if you ask me. So Mrs. Gander tell Gordon that you're going to call this guy. I doubt that he thinks you'll actually do it. If you do, I'll just bet he'll probably shit his pants."
"Listen to you. How brave. You've never done it for money, Susan."
"Actually, I probably have balled guys for money. I'm pretty sure that some of the guys that Steve brings home have paid him for the pleasure."
"How do you feel about it? I mean, really, how could you do that?"
"What the fuck difference does it make? If I didn't want to screw them, I wouldn't. If I do want to and I get off and I get them off, so what? Call him, this Lenox guy."
"Well I'm not going to call him. Gordon would be furious."
"I think you and your husband have a lot to talk about. If I were you I'd wake him up."
As she opened the drapes, the bright light penetrated the thin layer of skin that covered Gordon's blue eyes. God, he was so handsome, she thought, as she watched him slowly wake up. His mused hair made him look more like a little boy than a powerful attorney as he stretched and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Good morning," she said.
"How long have you been up?" He asked, suppressing a yawn as he scooted back and sat up against the padded headboard. "What time is it?"
"I've been up for maybe, oh, half an hour or so. It's 12:30," she told him. "Shall I order coffee from room service?"
"That would be great," he said as he slipped out of bed and walked naked into the bathroom. He didn't bother to close the door as he lifted the toilet seat and let loose a yellow stream that splashed into the porcelain bowl.
As she saw him shake off the last drop, Barbara wondered if he was so carefree and comfortable when Marlene had visited him in this same hotel. She hoped he wasn't, as she dialed room service and ordered coffee and rolls for two. The Carlyle was famous for its room service and she was promised that it would be there in ten minutes or less. The Carlyle kept its promise.
As she sipped from the steaming cup she said, "Gordon, I guess we have a lot to talk about, don't we?"
"I guess we do." He looked at her and didn't see the woman that he was with last night at Le Trapeze. The woman he saw was his wife, the mother of their daughter, the woman who worked tirelessly to put him through law school He saw the woman who worked in the garden at home and, who recently, had the discipline and determination to regain control of her life. But he also saw a woman as beautiful as any he had ever seen, one who was sexy and sexual beyond description. As he starred at the naked body curled up in the big club chair he was surprised that there were no visible outward signs of her time at the club. No hickeys, bruises or scratches. But there was a glow, a radiance and a hidden secret, he detected, behind her hooded eye lids. He would wait for her to begin, like the good lawyer he was trained to be.
"Where should we begin?" She asked.
"Where do you think we should begin?" Sometimes it's better to answer a question with a question, he thought.
Barbara had lived with him long enough to know what he was doing. "No you don't. We need to have a conversation and that takes at least two people. We need to talk about last night and I need to understand how you felt about the year when you were screwing Marlene and the others. I guess, most importantly, we need to talk about our future."
He didn't like the ominous tone. "Barbara, I told you all about Marlene when we were at the club . . ."
"No you didn't. All you told me was that one night, when you were here, you were horny and lonely because I was big and fat and didn't turn you on anymore . . ."
"That's not fair," Gordon said. "I never said anything like that. I admitted that I had screwed up and that I had been with her several times after the first time. I told you everything, Barbara."
"Yeah, you sure did screw up and got screwed in the process," she said.
"Honey I don't want to fight."
"Neither do I but I need to get in touch with my feelings. I don't want to feel jealous, or angry or worried about our future and I wouldn't blame you, after last night, if you wanted a divorce," she said.
"Are you crazy? I was the one who strayed. I was the one who suggested that we go to the club. For a long time I thought we needed to do something that would put a spark back in our marriage and I don't mean you losing the weight. I knew what might happen at the club and, in some way that I don't completely understand, I wanted what happened to happen. At least a part of me did."
"I don't understand."
"Well, after that first night with Marlene, I couldn't help but think about you with another man. For some reason I found the idea extremely exciting. Then after the first time I was at the club and Ron introduced me to his wife, I wondered how I would feel if I saw you climbing the stairs with another man. I don't have to wonder anymore."
"How do you feel?"
"A little jealous. A lot excited. Thrilled beyond what I could have imagined."
"Do you feel threatened?" Barbara asked.
"No, I don't think what you did with Marlene and the others or what I did last night needs to endanger our life together, our marriage. What happened to each of us was physical. What we have is, I believe, more than that . . . I sure hope we have more than just the physical."
"That's how I feel too," said Gordon somewhat relieved.
"But I do have a problem . . . now, I feel dirty, cheap, confused. My self-respect seems to be on vacation too . . ."
"There's no need for you to feel . . ."
"Please let me finish, Gordon. As I was about to say, for my whole life I've thought that saving it for the man that I married was something special. I actually looked down on those girls who had a reputation in high school and college, those who slept around and didn't care who knew it. I was proud that I had held out, maybe not until my wedding night, but at least I had waited for the man that I would eventually marry, I waited for you honey. Later, when I would hear of a married woman that I knew who was having an affair, inevitably, I thought less of her. When we found out about Susan and how she had been sowing wild oats, that probably should have been sowed earlier, if at all, that's when the confusion about this subject seriously began to set in for me. I knew she was still the same person but somehow, in some way, I thought that she had become my moral inferior. Does that make any sense?"
"Sure it does. I felt the same way," he said as he finished his coffee and placed the empty cup on the coffee table. "But maybe we were both wrong about Susan and what she was doing."
Barbara remembered almost every discussion that she had on the subject of sex with her mother, at church and in sex education classes in high school. Every lecture was the same. Good girls didn't, bad girls did. If you did it, it was almost a certainty that you would get pregnant, catch some horrible disease or have your reputation ruined. You might as well have been branded with a scarlet "A" for adulterer if you were married or a scarlet "F" for fornicator if you weren't married yet. Now, she found it difficult to reconsider these moral imperatives. She couldn't get pregnant and didn't need to catch a dose of something or some horrible disease if she was more careful in the future than she had been last night. If she and Gordon were discreet, then no ones' reputation needed to be sullied. But that wasn't really what this was all was all about. Simply put, she asked herself for the thousandth time, was it wrong? Was it immoral? Were people who were married but went to bed with other people, with the consent or even with the encouragement of ones' spouse, somehow in someway evil. Everything that she had been taught, except for Susan's recent lessons, held that it was wrong, it was bad, and yes, it was evil. "What about the morality of this, Gordon?"
"I can't judge what anyone else does. As for my own behavior over the past year, I felt bad about deceiving you and I think that was wrong. Not to be crude, but did I think it was wrong to put my cock inside another woman? I used to think that it would be wrong, now I guess I don't. Maybe I'm just rationalizing or justifying my behavior. Do I think you're different this morning after what happened last night, morally flawed in some way? No, I don't. Like I said earlier, I think you're more exciting and I guess more interesting because of what you did. If I thought you would leave me, or fall in love with some guy who was better in bed than me, then I would be very worried."
"Boy, you sound more like Susan than Susan, without the four letter words of course." Barbara took the last bite of her croissant and asked, "what now?"
Gordon wasn't sure what he should say. He wondered if he should talk with her about going back to the club that night. He also wondered about what she said in the cab which prompted him to ask, "what about your late lunch with the black man from last night?"
"You mean Len?" She bit her bottom lip as she did when was lost in thought, "I don't know." Then she thought about Marlene again. "Tell me Gordon, what was it about Marlene that was so fascinating to you?"
"I told you what she looked like. She was beautiful and sexy but not as beautiful and sexy as you are. Let me think about it?" He paused looked up then said, "I guess it was the fact that she could talk with someone on the telephone, then go to his hotel room and within fifteen minutes, or less, have his cock in her pussy. I think that's it, she's about as wanton as can be."
So, thought Barbara, his fascination with Marlene, the call-girl, had nothing to do with appearance or even her sexual technique, it had everything to do with Marlene's willingness to sell herself to anyone who could pay the price. Obviously, that's the kind of woman Gordon really liked, she realized. Then, without saying a word, she stood up, walked to where she had put her purse on the corner of the dresser, extracted Len's card, walked to the telephone on the desk as she looked over her bare shoulder, smiled at her husband, and then dialed the number on the card. She thought that he probably wouldn't answer but she was wrong.
Gordon heard half of the conversation. "Hi, this is Barbara from last night . . . oh, we've been up for awhile . . . no I'm fine . . . when and where? An hour? I think that would work . . . oh stop that Len," she said as she giggled like a school girl, "of course I can still walk . . . all right see you then, bye. "
"I think I'll run a tub, I'm meeting Len downstairs in an hour." She didn't ask her husband what he thought about the idea or if he had plans for them at 2:00, she just went into the bathroom and ran a hot tub.