by Bart Tracer
Jenny ran a hand down her belly and onto the smooth, bare skin where her pubic hair had been. “Ooh,” she sighed, biting her lip in excitement as she stroked herself, “that feels nice! I’d almost forgotten how good a shaved pussy feels.”
Holy shit! Who was this woman? Forgotten?! She had always had hair down there, ever since I had known her. If she was going to wear a swimsuit, she would give it a trim, but there had always been at least a landing strip of hair. My dick gave an excited twitch when I realized that her memories of having a shaved pussy were from before we met. From her “campus slut” phase.
Then suddenly, the clouds parted in my mind. It all made sense. I knew now why she had refused to shave for me all these years. In her mind, those two things were linked: shaving her pussy and being a wanton slut.
It made sense in a strange, convoluted way. She’d been hairless when she had done all those things, slept with so many different men (and women, too, I now realized). When she had stopped her wild ways, she had also stopped shaving. So, when we met, she had a luxuriant, full bush, and it had remained firmly in place, for her a very tactile symbol of her new, stable life.
Her fingers roamed her mound from thigh to thigh, absently stroking the baby-smooth skin.
“It looks amazing,” I offered. “So smooth and sexy.”
She jumped at my voice and snatched her hand away, realizing what she was doing. With a blush, she met my eyes.
“Really? You think they’ll like it?”
I leaned forward and kissed the bare skin, enjoying the smooth, foreign feel beneath my lips. Pulling back a couple of inches, I peered up at her. “If they don’t, I’m just going to say right now that there must be something wrong with them.”
With my eyes still locked on hers, I moved in and flicked my tongue across her wet clit. I was rewarded with a happy sigh.
She beamed down at me and tousled my hair. “How did I ever get such a wonderful husband?” she asked.
“Just lucky!” I said, rising from the water and taking her in my arms. “You sure you don’t want me to give this a test drive before your little date? You know, make sure everything still works like it should after these recent modifications?” I grinned and ground my hard cock against her freshly shaved mound.
“Nice try, mister!” she laughed, pushing me away and stepping out of the tub. “But I didn’t do this for you!” she stuck out her tongue and skipped out of the bathroom, leaving me with a smile on my face and a rigidly erect cock.
Chapter 7
“Zip me up, would you?” she asked, turning her head to look back at me over her shoulder.
I nodded and stepped forward, holding her ponytail out of the way and sliding the zipper up. I couldn’t resist kissing the nape of her neck as I did so. “There you go,” I announced, stepping back.
“Thanks. How do I look?” She did a little turn in front of me with her arms held out from her sides slightly.
She was stunning. The dress she had chosen did more than just hide the bustier she had on underneath. Tight and jet black, it hugged her curves like a second skin, demanding a double take. The hem stopped just below her butt cheeks, leaving the tops of her stockings visible. Her high heels sculpted her long legs perfectly, drawing the muscles of her calves as tight as a bowstring.
Her makeup was perfect. Not too much, not too little. The bouncy little ponytail she wore gave her a sort of girlish innocence and contrasted amazingly with her deeply erotic dress. The overall impression was that of a good girl who had recently discovered her inner slut. Oh yeah. She looked good enough to eat.
“Jen, you look…”
My phone rang, cutting me off.
“You look amazing, baby!” I said hurriedly. I pulled the phone from my pocket and was surprised to see that my boss was calling. “Give me just one second. I’ve got to take this.”
I tapped the green button and raised the phone to my ear. “Hello.”
“Ken?”
Odd. The voice wasn’t that of my boss, Mr. Gavin. “Yeah,” I replied. My curiosity was piqued now. What the hell was going on?”
“This is Jack. Jack Burton?”
“Sure. How are you, Mr. Burton?” Burton was the VP, second in command and my boss’s immediate superior. Why the hell was I getting a call from him?
“Listen, Ken, I hate to bother you on vacation, but we sort of have a situation here. I don’t suppose anyone has told you yet, but Pete had a heart attack yesterday.”
Pete was Mr. Gavin’s first name. He’d had a heart attack? “A heart attack? Oh my God! Is he… I mean…”
I saw a look of concern come across Jen’s face. Frowning, she took a seat on the edge of the bed. Beneath lowered brows, her piercing emerald eyes searched mine, as though trying to read the other side of the conversation from my face. “Who had a heart attack?” she hissed. I held up a finger to her, telling her to wait.
“It’s all right. He’s okay,” Burton’s voice said reassuringly in my ear. “They’re going to keep him in the hospital for a couple of days for observation, but from everything they can tell, it was just a minor heart attack. The doctors expect him to make a full recovery. They’re going to put him on some medication. Then, hopefully, with exercise and a little tweaking of his diet, he should be right back to being a pain in the ass.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Pain in the ass. That was a good one! Of all the people I knew, Pete Gavin was the most helpful and conscientious soul I’d ever met. He was, quite literally, the polar opposite of a pain in the ass.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.
“Well, actually, that’s the other thing I’m calling about. You see, Pete’s going to be off his feet for a few weeks, and I’m going to have to take over for him here. Temporarily, of course. Thing is, I’m not exactly up to speed on just what you guys have been working on.”
“And you need me to fill you in,” I said, nodding my understanding.
“Yeah. I need it all, timetables, meeting schedule, the whole ball of wax. Ken, I’m sorry. I know you’re supposed to be enjoying some time off, but we’re really in a bind here. If there’s any way you can spare a little time for me…”
I turned, searching the room for my laptop. I found it where I’d deposited it after checking in the first day. It was closed neatly, lying on the little desk next to the door. With everything that had been going on, I hadn’t even opened it since our arrival. “Of course. Of course. No problem. Just let me get my computer started and get everything organized. Can I call you back in, say, 15 minutes?”
“That would be perfect! Thank you so much!”
Before I could reply, the line went dead. I took the phone from my ear and turned back to face Jen.
“Who was that? Who had a heart attack? What’s happened? Is everything okay?” The questions spilled out of her, jumbling together.
“It’s Pete,” I said. I took a deep breath and ran my fingers through my hair. I was surprised to find that my hand was trembling. “He had a heart attack yesterday.”
“Oh my God, baby! That’s terrible! Is he going to be all right?”
“Yes. The doctor’s say he’s going to be just fine. They’re holding him for observation right now.”
“So, who was that on the phone?”
“That was Mr. Burton, the vice president of the company. He’s going to pick up the slack for Pete until he can come back to work, and he needs me to fill him in on what our department has going right now.” I glanced at my phone to check the time. “I have to call him back here pretty soon.”
“Oh,” she said.
Something in her voice made me look up. When I did, I could read the disappointment in her face. Jamaal and Scott. Shit! My phone call had made me completely forget where we were headed.
“I guess I’ll just text and tell them we can’t make it,” she said. She reached for her phone on the bedside table. Her smile was meant to be reassuring, but I could see past it.
“Wai
t,” I reached out to touch her arm. “This shouldn’t really take that long.” I strode to the desk and opened the computer, jabbing the power button before turning back to her. “Why don’t you go on ahead, and I’ll catch up when I’m done here?”
“No. I couldn’t,” she said.
“Why not? Go on over there and have a couple of drinks with them. I’m pretty sure they won’t mind if I’m a little late.”
Jenny snorted. “No. You’re probably right about that!” She eyed me for a moment, thinking about my suggestion, and I saw the beginnings of a smile creep across her face. “Really? You’d be okay with that?”
“Sure. I just have to make a quick call. Like I said, there shouldn’t be that much to explain. And then, as soon as I have Mr. Burton up to speed, I’ll head on over. Tell the guys I said ‘hi’.”
Her emerald eyes sparkled with pure elation, and she rushed into my arms. She hugged me tightly and kissed my cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll stall them as long as I can, but don’t be too long!”
“I promise,” I smiled. “Now get out of here. Some of us have work to do!” I swatted her round little butt playfully.
With a girlish laugh, she pulled away from me and scurried down the short hallway, pausing at the door for one last mock-stern look. “I mean it, Mr. Wilson. I’m already hornier than a sailor. Take too long, and I’ll start without you!” She shot me a wink, then disappeared through the door.
Chapter 8
Nothing can ever be easy. My “quick phone call” turned into 48 minutes of detailed grilling on every single facet of my department’s operations. I know just how long it took, because I watched the clock the whole time.
We talked about the recently acquired subsidiary. I explained the new customer list and gave a brief description of each of the contacts. Next, we touched on intercompany transport, and I laid out the idiosyncrasies of getting raw materials and half-finished components to and from the various manufacturing facilities. On and on it went, from idea to finished product. He wanted it all, and I gave it to him.
I had to admit, I was impressed with Mr. Burton’s thoroughness. He was taking his role as the temporary head of the department seriously. No detail seemed too small or mundane for his attention, and he made doubly sure he understood each topic before moving on to the next.
I could respect that. At least I knew I wouldn’t be coming back to a disaster after my vacation with Burton at the helm. The thing was, I really wasn’t interested in talking shop at that moment. To say the least, I had other things on my mind!
Sending Jenny alone had been my idea. There was no disputing that. And at the time, it had seemed like a good idea. After all, there was no sense in both of us sitting around in our hotel room. But as the hands on the wall clock hanging above the desk moved further and further around the dial, I began to doubt the wisdom of my idea.
I was dying, absolutely dying. Impatiently, I drummed the lacquered top of the narrow desk with my fingertips, eager to get off the phone. The longer this call dragged on, the more I found myself wondering what my wife was up to at that moment. Twice, I was caught daydreaming and had to ask Mr. Burton to repeat himself.
Five minutes into the conversation, I was still able to convince myself that Jenny had probably just arrived; perhaps she was having a drink, talking with the boys. But after twenty minutes, it seemed certain that things had progressed further than that. How could they not? After all, she was going there for one reason: to get fucked senseless by two college guys. And I was missing it! Damn!
As I struggled to concentrate on Mr. Burton’s questions, image after image sprang unbidden into my head. I saw Jenny sitting on the bed between Jamaal and Scott, saw their hands on her thighs, saw them nuzzle her long, ivory neck. I shifted in my seat, repositioning the bulge that had appeared in my pants.
By the time he had me explaining the new advertising contracts, Jenny had been gone for more than half an hour. Far too long for drinks and initial flirtations. My stomach was tying itself in knots with the certainty that my wife was at that very moment being fucked by another man. Men, most likely! Shit!
Once I realized that my wife was at that moment probably naked and in the arms of another, that idea burned like a white-hot ember in my brain. It became something akin to an obsession. They were fucking her, and I was stuck here!
Memories of what had taken place on the bed behind me just two nights ago flooded my mind, threatening to drive away all other thought. I remembered in stark detail the way Jenny had looked when Scott had pressed his penis inside her. And the expression of delighted lust on her face when Jamaal took his place… God, how that had turned me on!
It took a Herculean effort to drive these thoughts from my mind and concentrate on the task at hand. If I let my guard down at any time, they came flooding back with a vengeance. The more time passed, the worse it got. All I could think about was getting off the damned phone and joining my slutty little wife and her two young lovers. And though I tried to hide that fact and be completely professional, I’m sure Burton noticed my impatience seeping through.
“Just a couple more questions, Ken. I promise. Then, I’ll let you go,” he said as I was looking at the clock on the wall for the hundredth time.
It was strange, the way the old-fashioned wall clock seemed to draw my gaze. After all, my laptop had a clock in the lower right-hand corner that told the exact time. Wouldn’t it have been easier just to check it? But somehow, the motion of the analog hands on the brass plate above me seemed a better indicator. Maybe because I could see them moving, a visual reference that showed the passage of time.
“I’m sure you and your wife have other plans tonight,” he added.
“No, sir. I mean… well, yes sir. Actually, we do sort of have plans. But it’s okay. She’s gone on ahead and is waiting for me. This is important. She understands.”
“Right. Well, let’s not tax her understanding too much.” I seemed to hear a grin in his voice. “Like I said, just a couple more questions.”
It took another fifteen minutes to answer the rest of his questions, but in the end, I felt like he had a pretty good grasp of what he would need to do to fill in for Mr. Gavin.
“Hey, thanks a lot, Ken,” he said when we were through. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you taking time for me tonight. Really. I don’t know what I would have done without your help. And tell your wife that I’m sorry for keeping you.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll do that.”
“All right. You better get going. It’s never good to keep a lady waiting. And you two enjoy the rest of your vacation!”
“Thank you.”
The line went dead. Finally. I closed my computer and checked for my wallet. Out of reflex, I grabbed my Ray-Bans, then quickly realized that it was already dark. I put them back on the desk and gave the room a final look, feeling like I was forgetting something, but I couldn’t think what it might be. Oh well, I thought as I tucked my phone in my front pocket. It must not be too important.
I flicked off the light on my way out the door and practically jogged to the elevator, suddenly feeling like a junior high kid who was late for algebra class. I jabbed the call button and stood there, staring at the illuminated floor numbers above the door. They didn’t seem to be moving. Damn! I gave the button a series of angry pokes and saw the number 1 go out and the number 2 light up. It lingered there for half an eternity before languidly switching to the 3. Had this thing always been so fucking slow?
That phone call had taken forever! I pulled out my phone and looked at the display. 7:56 PM. Jenny had been gone for a good hour at this point.
The elevator dinged and I looked up to see the doors creeping slowly open. Shit! It was like the entire universe was conspiring against me at this point. Couldn’t anything be quick? I darted into the elevator before the doors had finished opening and pressed the button for the ground floor.
An hour. A full hour alone with two horny young men. God only kn
ew what my wife was up to now!
Initially, I had planned to take a cab to Jamaal and Scott’s hotel, but the doorman had told me that it was only a few blocks away from the Hotel Sandpiper. “Faster just to walk,” he had advised me. So that was what I did.
In spite of its name, “The Grand Hotel” turned out to be anything but grand. When I turned the corner and got my first glimpse of it, I was a little surprised to see just what a dump the guys were staying in. Then again, they were college kids. Of course, they were staying in a dump. I remembered those days. Hell, I could remember being too broke to order fries with my burger!
Situated beneath a flickering neon sign the size of a Buick, the Grand was a sprawling, 2-story motel built sometime in the 70s, as flat and featureless as the Sandpiper was elegant. The upper level sported a balcony with a less-than-classy welded pipe railing with chipped green paint to keep inebriated guests from falling onto the cars parked below. Nice.
As incredibly idiotic as it might sound, it wasn’t until I was actually standing in the parking lot in front of the building that I realized I had absolutely no idea what room they were in. Crap! Now what?
A half a second later, I remembered that Jenny had her phone with her. No sweat. Problem solved. I’d just call her. I dug out my phone and tapped on the picture of my wife’s face, then held the phone to my ear. It rang and rang.
After the fourth ring, her voicemail picked up, “Hello, you’ve reached…” Why did they have to pick the most annoying voice known to mankind for that message? I killed the call with an angry tap. Damn! Now what? I looked around the practically empty parking lot, scratching my head in frustration.
Shit! How in the fuck was I ever going to find them now? My wife was in one of these rooms, being fucked by two college kids, and I didn’t know which one! Damn, damn, damn! I could feel a sense of panic beginning to stir inside me.
The reception! They would know the room number. Crisis averted. I whirled around and started toward the tiny office beneath the neon sign. I had gone only a dozen steps, though, when I realized: I didn’t know either Scott’s or Jamaal’s last names.
