Sweet Surrender · Part 1 (1/2)
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Nostalgic Recollections from the Golden Age of Troilism
They had chosen their target carefully, in a pub some twenty miles away from home and Julie had eventually agreed, in the warmth of their bed, that if it had to be somebody, then he seemed nice enough.
Played it down well, thought Rich. With just a touch of reproach, even resignation in her voice. But when he still hadn't mentioned it two days later, her casual inquiry had been just a bit too casual.
"Don't suppose you've done anything about that guy we saw?"
So he teased her, saying he was having second thoughts about the whole thing. And he watched her wipe down the table with a new intensity, her lips clamped tight as she worked out her answer.
"Well, like I said, we could do it in stages. No need to go mad. Just a quick session in the back seat, just like you and Maggie last Christmas. No need to go any further than you did."
Ouch! Finding himself alone with her best friend in the back of a car after a party, he'd taken full advantage of her drunken affections. He'd always fancied Maggie and within five minutes had finally got inside her pants. Just about the exact moment the door burst open and Julie and Maggie's husband got in.
He wondered if she'd seen how far he'd got in that five minutes. Far enough to know what a lovely little hot-pot Tom could tuck in to whenever he liked. If he bothered. Naturally, he had only admitted to a quick kiss and a cuddle. But Julie and Maggie had been friends since their schooldays.
Oh well, perhaps deep down he'd planned it all. Catching him like that gave Julie every right to get her own back. And that, he was beginning to admit, was what he wanted more than anything else. He'd always felt an unbearable lightness in his stomach whenever she flirted or danced with his friends. And yet he always encouraged her. It took several years and a particularly wild party before he came to appreciate that he actually enjoyed it. The revelation came when, quite by accident, he'd seen Julie going up the stairs, followed seconds later by Tom, their host. The two had been dancing closely at every opportunity and seemed oblivious to the knowing looks they'd been getting.
Heart pounding, he told himself it was just a call of nature but when neither of them came back down, he went looking for them. Only to find the bathroom door open and all the bedrooms shut.
So he'd sat there curled up in a ball at the top of the stairs, raging impotently at the betrayal, boiling inwardly, trying desperately to picture them together, wondering if this moment was the one when Tom unhooked her bra, or if this was the exact same second that she pulled down his zip. And feeling so full of love for her, so wanting to share those first, fumbling moments when she explored another man. And so abject, so cheated at being here on the wrong side of the door, excluded while it happened without him.
But if Richie was reluctant to act, Maggie, the hostess, most definitely wasn't. She swept past without even looking at him, opened a bedroom door and gave them both some frank and rather loud advice about not playing silly buggers in her home.
Not able to face them, Rich had slunk off down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he splashed some cold water onto his burning face, avoiding the pitying looks from the others, concentrating on pouring himself a stiff drink. Julie had appeared with her coat over her arm a few minutes later and announced that it was time to go home.
He'd never mentioned it since, not even during their rows. Things had been cool between the two girls for months afterwards. But not between Rich and Julie. The sex was, for a while, the best either had experienced. Ever. Even now, Rich could feel himself stiffening at the sight Maggie must have walked in on.
Had they or hadn't they? He'd spent many a happy hour torturing himself about that one. It was, he'd come to learn, only the deception that had really hurt. Produced the kind of pain that could break up a marriage. If only they had let him in on their secret, or better still made him part of it, so he would know what was going on, could have seen them together. He could have handled that all right. Oh yes, he would have enjoyed that.
But time passed and everything gradually got back to normal. Including the sex. They didn't go out with Tom and Maggie as friends much any more but their daughters went to the same school, so the two wives still met regularly.
But try as he may – and he didn't very much – Rich couldn't shake off the thought of Julie making love to another man. It was guaranteed to get him hard. If anything, over the years, it had grown into something of an obsession. Secret, shameful feelings that were now prompting him to shape events, to make it happen, to persuade his wife of fifteen years to open her legs to someone new.
Julie could hardly believe her ears when he suggested that maybe she was entitled to get her own back for his grope with Maggie. She thought it had been his revenge for that party. Maybe Maggie had been lying about him being sat outside, just to make her feel worse. After all, he'd never mentioned it. But no, that didn't explain the way their sex life had taken off. They'd been at it like rabbits for weeks afterwards. No, he knew about it all right and in some strange way she couldn't understand, it turned him on. Perhaps it was the male need for competition. She knew he liked her to show off, to dress provocatively when they went out with friends. Whatever it was, the sex had been brilliant and had brought them closer together than at any time before. Or since, come to that. Perhaps she should play along, after all.
"Well, I suppose if it's only a kiss and a cuddle….as long as it doesn't get out of hand. And we don't know him. Probably never see him again."
Was she really saying this? Oh God, I hope I don't sound too keen. Honestly, men, she thought. Still, ever since they'd spotted the fair-haired stranger she hadn't been able to put him out of her mind. A quiet man with warm brown eyes that had followed her every move. She still looked good in a short skirt and had caught him looking at her long, slim legs more than once, from over the top of his paper.
Oh well, maybe they did need something to put a bit of spice back into their lives. They had been married fifteen years, after all. And it wasn't as if she was exactly blameless in the fidelity department. Fifteen years was a long time and she couldn't help it if men found her attractive. But with Richie watching? Oh well, as long as it didn't get out of hand, what harm could it do? Richie wanted her to do it, she was certain of that.
"I think you'd better sort out some ground rules with him first, Richie. And I don't want him back here, either. Anyway, he might not be interested… I'm thirty-seven. He looked younger to me."
They hadn't been married for this long without him knowing when a compliment was called for.
"You're joking. He'll jump at the chance… anyone would. And I could always take a few Polaroids along… let him see for himself."
She stopped stacking the dishwasher and thought about it.
"OK, if you want. But I'll do the choosing… and not the porny ones."
Richie was stunned. He'd once asked if he could show some of the milder ones to the guys at work and she'd hit the roof and hidden them for six months. Things were changing fast.
So that same evening they found the pub and went in for a drink. But the place was nearly empty and the fair-haired stranger wasn't around.
Richie tried again on the Friday, this time on his own and the place was packed. Fighting his way to the bar, he didn't give much for his chances of finding him. The joint was jumping – not the sort of place for a man to be reading his paper. And yet there he was in the same corner seat. A quiet man, sipping his beer and enjoying his own company.
His easy, natural way with people had served Richie well as a salesman and striking up a conversation with a complete stranger was something he did every working day. Within minutes they were swapping stories like old friends and after a few beers the subject of sex had come up. Richie quickly produced the photos in case Phil mistook him for a queer.
Julie had chosen them well. Nothing crude, just sexy undies with plenty on show. Even at thirty seven she still packed her 36C cups to overflowing.
And so Rich told the story that he and Julie had dreamed up… about a game of forfeits with some friends that had gone wrong on him. How he had tried to win half an hour in the back seat of a car with her best friend. And how he had lost and now had to arrange for his wife to have the same. But with a complete stranger because she was too embarrassed to do it with someone they knew. And they laughed at the way it had backfired on him and how it served him right..
From there it was easy to bring up the subject of the ground rules… just thirty minutes or so of fun, no going all the way, and a vague promise of more at a later date. They went their separate ways with the arrangements made, Richie thinking how well it had gone and the quiet man reflecting that thirty minutes was a lot longer than he normally took.
The time Julie needed to get ready for a night out had always amazed and often frustrated Richie. The new outfit… the appointment at the hairdressers… the long bath. Anyone would think they were going to a wedding. But when he found her putting on some drop-dead gorgeous underwear he'd never seen before, his throat dried up and he could hardly speak.
"Wow! But if there's no fucking allowed, why all this?"
She reddened and carried on stretching the sheer black stockings upwards to the lacy black garter belt.
"You know me, I always like to feel nice. Anyway, you'll get the benefit of them afterwards."
I bloody well hope so, he thought. But this was all for someone she'd never even met before. Her laughter was too shrill, her eyes too bright and her chatter too loud. No sign of any reluctance now. Julie was on a high.
He hadn't seen her this excited for years, he thought to himself. Oh well, it had been his suggestion. The thought of her in the back seat with another man started the churning in his stomach. New black underwear? If she had any intention of keeping to her own rules, she could have worn jockey shorts and the quiet man wouldn't have been any the wiser.
His chest felt tight, his face was flushed and his palms were sweating. What the hell was he going to say if she asked if they could go a bit further?
That had been the deal. She had it all worked out. If she fancied him, the keywords would be "shall we give him a lift?"
And when they got out to the car, there was to be no messing around in case there were people about. They were to get straight into the back and he was to drive. Eyes on the road, no looking at what was going on in the back. He'd have to trust her on that. He needed a lesson and she was going to make sure he thought twice about groping her friends in future. But there was nothing to worry about. No undressing. Nothing below the waist anyway. And if she did want to go a bit further, she'd ask him first and he could always say no.
Which was more than he'd done when Maggie had climbed into the back seat with him last Christmas, she reminded him.
The evening was a bit awkward at first and it took a couple of drinks before they could relax. But gradually they unwound and began to enjoy a lively conversation.
Phil was an educated, even cultured man, with a wicked sense of humor. And for two and a half hours they talked avidly about anything except what was going to happen.
Julie really came out of her shell after a few drinks and Rich felt proud of the way she easily matched Phil's sharp wit. Impressed, too, at the way she could flirt provocatively yet discreetly, without embarrassing him. And at how good she looked in the new dress she'd bought specially. Soft and silky, with pearl buttons all down the front. Buttons? He'd been thinking about those…..
As the drinks went down and the conversation became bolder, Richie noticed the way they kept locking eyes with each other and a cold, wriggling worm deep in his bowels told him that thanks to those buttons, this gentle stranger was going to get his hands on Julie's new underwear well before he did. Still, he admitted to himself, the thought of that wasn't entirely unpleasant.
Stuck with the driving, his two beers had to last all evening but Phil and Julie made the most of it and Rich reckoned she'd put away seven or eight large vodkas by the time she looked at him with hot, bright eyes and asked the question he knew was coming.
"Shall we give him a lift home, Richie?"
Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded and led the way to the car. There was no-one around and Phil and Julie giggled loudly as they got into the back.
Swallowing hard, Richie started the engine and turned the cassette on. She'd even chosen that. The joking in the back stopped the moment that he turned off onto the circuit of back roads they'd found the day before.
He stole a glance in the mirror but she'd picked the route well and with no street lights or passing traffic to light them, he couldn't see a thing. Or hear anything, come to that, because of the cassette. Christ, she'd thought of everything. Even a dress with buttons down the front.
But after a few minutes he thought he could just catch the occasional sharp intake of breath, a rustle of silk as they turned and twisted. And when he heard a low murmur from Julie, he knew that the limits they'd set were being tested.
Almost on cue, she broke the silence.
"All right to go a bit further, Rich? Say so if not."
His heart was hammering, his stomach tickling and he could feel the hairs on his arms standing up. Christ, he thought, I'm actually enjoying this! Trying hard to sound calm, he answered her.
"No that's all right. It's up to you."
And then a flash of brilliance.
"But I'm going around in circles. Why don't we go up to The Heath and park?"
Brilliant because he knew there'd be enough light from the town below to see at least something. And with the engine off, the cassette wouldn't work.
"Yeah, all right… whatever…."
She sounded in control but was breathing fast and trying too hard to be cool. He heard them shift in their seats and all went quiet again.
Soon there were street lamps and Richie risked another quick glance in the mirror. The shock of seeing the white skin of her shoulder nearly took his breath away. She must have taken her coat off, he thought. But when they passed through the next pool of light, he saw there was no sign of her dress either…. or the black shoulder strap of her bra. Buttons, eh?
"Careful, you two! There's lights here. Don't want to get arrested! He laughed nervously at his own silly joke.
Sweet Surrender · Part 1 (1/2)
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