Triad Project: An Elegant SeductionbyTx Tall Tales©
(If you've read the "Jen and Me" tales, the events portrayed here actually occurred the weekend following the "Marisa move".)
* * * * *
My wife Cheryl was quite excited by the idea of our seducing one of her best friends, Denise. For a week we'd been discussing ideas while in bed each evening, and each time she would get seriously worked up. She had nicknamed it the Triad project.
Cheryl is a dear girl, but not quite the most subtle at subterfuge. Fortunately I'm more than sufficiently devious, manipulative, and borderline amoral for the both of us.
I had met Denise several years earlier around the same time I had first met Cheryl. She was a bubbly, bright ex-college roommate, with shoulder length blonde hair that framed an irresistibly cute face. I was immediately struck with her prettiness, and had always found her the most attractive of all Cheryl's friends. The fact that she was the happiest, with a smile that lit up her face like a beacon in the night was only icing on the cake. For years while I was dating Cheryl, none of her friends had steady beau's and I'd always thought that if things between Cheryl and I didn't work out, Denise would be mine.
Cheryl had found recent behavior of mine, 'above and beyond the call of duty', and as such, thought I should be rewarded. I'd already received the first part of my reward, the second part being the potential opportunity of a shared weekend of unmitigated sexual freedom, including our good friend Denise, if we could only get her assent.
Denise was the first of Cheryl's friends to get married, and claimed to be quite happy in her marriage. She had never been quite as open about every facet of her life as Cheryl was with ours, but every indication was her home life was great. They had been together for years, and had a child just a bit older than ours. Her husband Mark and I had never really hit it off, no animosity, and just not a lot of commonality (except perhaps for admiration of his wife's figure!) We'd run into each other maybe twice a year - we lived a good 50 miles apart.
Since Cheryl was a homemaker, and Denise worked part-time, the two full-time mommies still found time to get together every now and then, at least every few weeks, to gab, compare notes, and rehash old times.
The topic of conversation recently, apparently, was the drastic improvement in our love life, and even some discussion of new paths forged, and new frontiers explored. I hadn't seen Denise in quite a while, close to a year, and she had yet to see the 'new' me.
Cheryl's progress towards her goal to get back to her 'college shape' however was quite obvious. At some point she'd recruited Denise into her camp and they'd been running together for a couple of months now. Cheryl kept hinting that if I'd found Denise cute before, her new, fitter figure might be too much for my weak heart too handle. Weak heart!
"So tell me again," Cheryl asked nervously, reclining next to me in bed that Friday morning, having just concluded an unexpected but oh-so-nice morning tryst.
"When she comes down this afternoon, you two go shopping. Tell her that I insist on treating, thanks to a recent financial windfall, and it's time for you two to buy some clothes that fit you that aren't from the 80's". This earned me a smack, but it was largely true. None of Cheryl's clothing fit, except for some few items left from her college days. "It's just a little reward for all your efforts. Just the eye-candy value alone is worth a Neiman-Marcus weekend.
"Of course, Denise might not understand that kind of extravagance. Make sure you shop someplace reasonable so she doesn't feel too concerned with prices since you're buying. And make sure that part of your shopping spree includes lingerie."
"And in exchange for funding our expedition, all you'll ask for is a 'fashion show' of our purchases." Cheryl looked to me for approval, which I granted with a nod.
"Exactly. Let her know about the 'show' before you shop, so she's thinking about that all afternoon. Get some sexy outfits, short skirts, sundresses, shorts, tight shirts, you know. Show off those cute bodies of yours." I smiled, running my hands over the object under discussion. "Our goal is to get her in a highly sensitized mood. We never come outright and discuss intimacy; it just hovers in the background, like white noise."
I pulled out an envelope. "Here are $1500 worth of Mall coupons. They are good in either of the malls. Tell her I got it as a bonus, and want you to spend it. What would I buy in snooty malls like these?
"Some silky teddies would be great, if you can swing it, but she may not bite. I imagine you can probably work in at least a nice nightshirt and panties, if you try. You might even try for some swimsuits if things are going smoothly. You be the judge. Remind her that what she buys should be for show. Tell her how you want her to help get me worked up so that you can get some serious action tonight." I added. "She must know that I've always found her really hot."
"Oh, yeah. She's convinced that if she'd found you first, you two would be together now." Cheryl laughed.
"I don't know about that," I joined in, "but she certainly would be a tasty treat."
"And then?" She asked.
"Let me deal with it after that. I have plans for dinner." I told her. "The rest is up to me, you just have to go along, and do whatever I ask."
"Whatever you ask." She repeated doing her best Spock imitation with her eyebrows.
"Yes, whatever I ask." I smiled.
I got home from the office early, and arranged a few details for later that evening. My purchases had been completed, and I was relaxing on the screened-in porch.
They burst in the through the front door, giggling and laughing like schoolgirls. I later found out they'd stopped by happy-hour on the way out of the mall to avoid rush hour, and were already feeling very little pain. Ah - I love it when a plan comes together.
"STEVE, get your ass out here and help us." Cheryl yelled.
"Yeah, STEVE, get your buns in action." Denise added, and both girls burst into laughter.
"Ok, I'm here already, what's up." I sauntered in.
"Oh my god, you look great!" Denise gushed, "And you're so big! I mean, well not big like before, but good big!" She reached up to touch my arm and ran her hand from shoulder to elbow. The baggy gym shirt and cotton gym shorts didn't do much to compliment my body, but I was still a far cry from the 300-lb. guy she'd last seen.
She looked fabulous, but before I had a chance to express my views, my darling tipsy wife interrupted.
"No annoying the help, please," Cheryl teased, dragging Denise off of me.
"The bags are in the car, 'James', hop to." Cheryl did not play the socialite ingenue especially well, but I played along, answering 'Yes, Madame' and hoisting about a dozen bags into the house and into the living room.
"Can I get you ladies a drink," I offered, "or perhaps some canapés? I have some exquisite seasonal offerings."
"Very well, we'll take them in the drawing room," Cheryl answered, leading Denise arm-in-arm into the family room. I grabbed the remote and turned on the CD player, preloaded with elegant, sensual, classical music.
I was determined to overwhelm Denise with an assault on all her senses. I brought out a silver platter layered with ice, and heaped with four freshly shucked oysters, four quail eggs stuffed with caviar, and a jar of Beluga, surrounded by toast points, buttered, plain, and coated with cream cheese, as well as a small bowl of creme fraische. Delicate mother-of-pearl spoons completed the arrangement. I situated the platter and removed the blue lid from the jar.
As they 'ooh'd and 'ah'd, I brought out the champagne bucket, and opened the Perrier-Jouet Fleur.
"Oh, you're spoiling us. You must want something," Cheryl giggled, coquetishly.
"Not at all. It's not spoiling if you deserve it. You lovely ladies deserve nothing less. You've been dieting and working out so hard, and so successfully, that when you splurge, you should splurge big. I'm so proud of what you've accomplished, I can't tell you enough. And you Denise, you know you look marvelous, darling." Ok, Billy Crystal, I'm not. I stepped back appraisingly, running my eyes over her body.
"Oh, please. I'm still 10 pounds more than I weighed when I started college." Denise responded, trying to hide within her oversized shirt.
"Bullshit. You are beautiful; you would be way too scrawny if you lost 10 pounds. I keep trying to tell Cheryl that she's at her perfect weight, and she keeps adjusting her target weight. You tell her. I don't want one more inch lost off those yummy boobs and hips. Her butt is the closest thing to perfect I've seen - present company excepted. Stop the insanity!" "Now he is laying it on thick," Cheryl whispered to Denise.
"Oh, no, I like it," Denise whispered back accepting the flute of dry champagne I offered, clinking her glass against Cheryl's in a conspiratorial toast.
I knelt before Cheryl, and removed her shoes, rubbing her feet. "Your poor feet must be exhausted, after a hard day battling the mobs." Cheryl leaned back, caviar toast in one hand, champagne in the other.
"This is the life," she breathed.
I walked around the table to Denise's feet. I took her foot in hand. "May I?" I inquired.
"Mmmmm," she responded, pointing her toe, and extending her leg.
Heh. I knew that Denise always considered her calves, ankles and feet as some of her best features. I'd lean more towards her incredible, edible ass, and her pretty face, particularly the cute little dimples in each cheek.
I removed one shoe, then the other, rubbing her feet as I had previously with Cheryl. Then placing her foot on my shoulder, I initiated a short calf massage, before completing the foot massage. If her skirt was just a little shorter, it might have offered me an enticing view.
I returned to the kitchen where I brought in my own preferred beverage, a large glass of pineapple juice, then climbing over Cheryl's legs, positioned myself between the ladies.
"Allow me," I offered, as I prepared a small scoop of caviar on a bed of plain toast with cream cheese. Turning to Cheryl, I fed this morsel to her, as she reclined decadently into the corner of the couch.
"Oh, that was scrumptious." She announced.
I prepared another bite size morsel, this time layering the caviar, creme fraische, and plain toast, and turned to Denise. "Do you care for caviar?" I asked.
"I don't really know," she answered.
"Then you must experience it. You may find it a little salty, although the Beluga is quite mild. Take a small bite, and if you like it, try crushing the berries with the tip of your tongue against the roof of your mouth." I held the toast to her mouth, and she tentatively accepted a small bite.
"Mmm, that's nice." Denise admitted after opening her eyes.
She opened her mouth and I place the remaining bite in her mouth, lightly running my finger across her lip.
She closed her eyes and enjoyed her first caviar. It was a few moments before she spoke. "It really is not salty at all, and crushed, it's almost like a buttery omelet taste."
Turning back to the Cheryl I took a stuffed quail egg, and popped it in her mouth. She never opened her eyes, finishing the egg, and following with a sip of the champagne.
Again, I turned to Denise, who was waiting expectantly.
"What is that?"
"Oeufs a l'amour, quail eggs stuffed with caviar, creme and crushed yolk. This I'm sure you'll enjoy." I once again fed her, and she captured my finger for a second between her lips, as she accepted the small egg.
Denise finished the egg, and her tongue teasingly cleaned the corners of her mouth. "Wufs lamore."
"Oeufs A L'amour, Eggs of Love," I told her, as I prepared the caviar with cream cheese and toast for myself. Unlike my wife, I was not a special fan of sturgeon eggs myself. I went light on the caviar.
Denise was watching me intently, with a curious look on her face. I raised an eyebrow, inviting the question I knew she was harboring.
"What is it you're drinking, a Salty Dog?"
"Why pineapple juice?"
I leaned over to whisper softly in her ear, "It's a treat for Cheryl, for later."
"How's that?" She asked, intrigued.
"Oh, I really shouldn't say. It's not proper."
"Please, Steve, I can keep a secret." She leaned really close and her lips were in almost constant contact with my ear as she spoke. She was doing her favorite teasing gesture, pulling and tugging at my shirt, then pressing her hand against me to 'flatten' the pull.
My breath tickling her ear, I pulled her hair back and whispered softly. "I discovered on a diet once, that pineapples and bananas give me a delicate sweet flavor, or so a friend told me. It removes the bitterness and saltiness, I might otherwise have." I couldn't resist a light taste of her skin, as I completed sharing my secret.
She was looking very confused, pondering my statement, when she suddenly blushed a deep crimson. Lowering her eyes, she drank half her champagne.
I stood up and refilled their glasses. "Ladies, please enjoy your aperitifs. I have some preparations to make for dinner. If you'll excuse me."
I started the dinner preparations, working on the tenderloin and baked potatoes that would take the longest. When I had finished I returned to the family room, and finding the appetizers gone, I cleared the table. I had only provided a small serving, just enough to whet their appetites.
"Well girls, if you are sufficiently recovered from your arduous workout, perhaps you'd be so kind as to allow me a showing of what my bonus bought today," I said, situating myself in my leather recliner, and sipping my juice.
Cheryl hopped up, pulling Denise by the hand, "Fashion show!" she sang, and dragged Denise off to the living room.
It was a good ten minutes before they reappeared. They took turns standing just outside of the room and announcing each other.
"Presenting Monique, in a divine floral summer smock, designed by monsieur Pierre Poupon, of the renowned J.C. Penoir," Denise announced as Cheryl strutted through wearing her brightly colored sundress.
I was entertained for about 20 minutes. They had acquired quite a few new items. As the show continued the outfits got smaller and sexier. The improvement to Denise's body was nearly miraculous. She might believe she could lose another 5-10 pounds; as far as I was concerned she looked damn good. She came out in torn jean shorts and an open midriff peasant blouse, and my first erection of the evening made its presence known. She had a full, round ass, but no excess fat on her thighs. Her waist was narrow. No love handles, a tiny pooch in the front, and smooth curves. Nothing like Jen's hardbody or even Cheryl's slightly defined abs, but still sexy as hell. Of course all of this was somewhat hard to notice under the distraction of her large, blouse filling breasts. Cheryl packed quite a package on her chest, but I'd have to say I'd be hard-pressed to pick a winner in a battle of boobs. Cheryl came out in some ultra-low slung hip-hugger shorts, very retro, with two zippers in the front, one on each side. These were matched with what must have been the last tube top in the country. I whistled in appreciation.
Finally Cheryl gave me the sign that they were nearly done.
"Hold on a sec please, I must check on the dinner, I'll be right back." The girls returned to the living room to get their next outfits, while I put on the asparagus, and lobster, knowing they would ready in just a couple of minutes.
"I'm back," I announced.
"Lingerie, courtesy of Victoria's Secret," Cheryl announced, as the girls filed in side-by-side, wearing matching white satin nightshirts. Cheryl opened hers, letting it fall off her shoulders, displaying a bright red lacy bra, and matching red panties. Denise hesitantly opened hers, turning quickly one way, then the other, offering me a fleeting glimpse of a teal, extremely low cut bra, from which she was nearly overflowing. Her exquisite porcelain skin was beautiful. Her panties were also teal, very low cut, like hip-huggers, drawing a straight line from hip-to-hip, at the top of which I could see a few light hairs peeking up. I knew that from behind half her crack would be exposed by these.
I clapped appreciatively. "Beautiful, excellent choices. Is that everything?"
"Oh no," Cheryl cried bouncing up and down deliciously. "The swimsuits!"
"Ah the finale. Please ladies, get ready."
While they were changing, I returned to the kitchen, placed the food on their platters, and even sliced the tenderloin.
"We're ready," Cheryl announced.
I hurried back to my chair for the piece-de-resistance.
Cheryl entered wearing a delightfully simple white bikini. The straps between the cups and along the sides of the bottom were striped in black. The cut was daring, but not overly, covering most of her breasts, and being pretty full cut in the back. She paraded around for a moment, stepping right up to the edge of my chair to make sure I was getting the full effect. It was very nice. I couldn't help but think it would be completely see though if it ever got wet.
Denise had to be encouraged to come out, she finally snuck around the corner, arms crossed in front of her. She was wearing a gold suit, a two-piece. The top was a simple band across her breasts, bunched in the middle with what looked like an intricate rope knot. The swell of her breast was clearly evident both below and above the band, where the poor top was not up to the task of completely containing her treasure chest. The bottom was pretty, again gold, with the straps riding high on her waist, accentuating the swell of her hips. As she turned, I saw the back was almost non-existent, a narrow triangle of cloth running up the middle of her delightful rear, ending in a loop, about 4 inches across, where it attached to the rope around her waist. Her ass cheeks were perfect, full round, and incredibly tempting.
"Gorgeous," I announced clapping, "those outfits will raise more than eyes on the beach this summer," I told them. I passed them two heavy Turkish bathrobes. "Put these on, dinner is ready, and we don't want it to get cold."
Step number two accomplished. Get Denise into lingerie or a bathing suit, and get her used to wearing it through the meal. Goal: to make sure she wore only that or less for the rest of the evening.
Dinner went well; it was a simple affair, surf and turf, with asparagus in hollandaise sauce and twice baked potatoes. A ripe '97 Australian Margaret River Chardonnay kept our light buzz intact.
When the plates were relatively clean, I announced that dessert would be served in the family room. The girls returned to the couch, where I soon reappeared with chocolate fondue, and chilled strawberries, banana slices, cherries and seedless grapes. If a more sensual dessert existed, I'd never heard of it. I passed out the small forks, two each.
"Now, I read the rules of fondue." I announced pulling out a little booklet.
"Rule One. Dip fondue in a figure eight, to keep the chocolate mixed.
"Two. Never double dip your fondue.
"Three. Use one fork for dipping and the other for eating.
"Four. If a lady drops her fondue, she must kiss the gentleman to her left.
"Five. If a gentleman drops his fondue, he must buy the next bottle of wine or the next round.
"And last but not least, rule number six. The purposeful knocking off of fondue will not be tolerated.
"Are there any questions? If not, let's dig in."
Of course it wasn't long before Cheryl lost a banana in the chocolate (they were the hardest to keep on the fork). She paid her forfeit happily.