by Ray Gordon
Carole didn't stay as long as usual. Making some feeble excuse, she finished her coffee and stood up. She was suspicious, I knew - but suspicious about what? Again, I told myself that no one could possibly know what I'd done, and no one would ever discover my sordid secret.
"I'd better dash," Carole smiled, moving towards the kitchen door. "I have a lot to do today."
"Yes, all right. I'll see you tomorrow."
"I'll ring you."
When she'd gone, I flopped onto the sofa in the lounge, contemplating my day. I'd go into town, buy something to cheer myself up. Some new clothes, I decided, recalling a burgundy velvet dress I'd seen in Boyd's window. I'd wear it for Mat that evening - appease my guilt by dressing nicely for my man.
But the vivid images of Den wouldn't leave my mind. However much I tried to push all thoughts of him away, he was still there, scrutinizing my curvaceous body, his dark eyes devouring my feminine intimacy. Lifting my skirt, I parted my thighs, examining my vaginal crack, my pink, petalled flora.
As if a reflection, in the soft, glistening folds, I saw Den. He'd seen me there, fed his hungry, lustful eyes on my intimacy, my most secret place. Pulling my sex lips wide apart I gazed at my clitoris, imagining Mat licking me there, transporting me to orgasm. Can clocks turn back?
"Damn!" I cursed, tugging my skirt down as the phone rang. Leaping up and grabbing the receiver, I prayed that it wasn't Den again. It could be anyone, I rationalized, pressing the receiver to my ear. My mother, a friend... anyone.
"Hi," Den whispered huskily. "It's me again."
"Den..."
"I noticed your friend leave so I thought I'd give you a ring."
"What for?"
"To have a chat, of course. I've been looking through my mags and I've found two more with your photographs in. There's Miss December and Miss July - both very naughty, I must say!"
"What do you want?" I asked, knowing full well what he wanted!
"What do I want? I want to look at you, Jane. I want to see your lovely cunt, your beautiful tits."
"Well, you can't!"
"But I can. You don't seem to understand that I have the incriminating evidence of your more colourful days. I'm holding your marriage in the balance."
"No, you're not! Look, I don't care if you show Mat. He won't believe..."
"Are you going to gamble your marriage on a whim?"
"It's not a whim."
"Don't forget that I have your panties. How will you explain to your husband that I have your stained panties?"
"You can't prove that they're mine."
"True, but he'll be somewhat suspicious, won't he? I mean, the photographs, your dirty knickers... You'd be taking quite a risk."
"If you think you can come round here whenever you want and..."
"I don't think, Jane - I know. OK, this is the deal. I'll keep your filthy secret, but you'll do everything I ask in return."
"Never!"
"Think about it, Jane - think very, very carefully."
"I don't have to think about it!"
Slamming the phone down, I wondered what to do as I ambled into the kitchen. I should have denied all knowledge of the bloody pictures, just laughed it off. But it was too late for that now, I knew as I sat at the table, my head slumped in my hands. I'd as good as committed adultery. I'd stripped before my neighbour, exposed my intimate sex flesh... It was too late to turn back now.
Agonizing on what to do for the best as I walked aimlessly through the hall, I noticed an envelope on the doormat. Den? I pondered tremulously, tearing it open. Unfolding the sheet of paper, I was shocked to read the cruel words. You filthy tart. Surely Den wouldn't bother to send me a note like that? But who else knew what I'd done? No one could possibly know, I decided. A wave of devastation hitting me, I thought I would drown in my river of tears.
Chapter Two
Mat had packed his case and left by eight the following morning. Alone in my bed, with my turbulent thoughts, I pictured Den. He would have heard Mat's car back out of the drive, his cue to call on his victim and make his lewd demands. But I wouldn't answer the door, I decided. He could knock and knock, ring and ring until his perverse penis jangled - but I wouldn't succumb.
I'd not left the house since Den's visit the previous morning. Feeling vulnerable, I hadn't even driven into town to buy the velvet dress. I'd thought Den might be watching my every move, follow me and... Realizing that I was becoming paranoid, I leaped out of bed.
Trying to plan my day, I wandered into the bathroom and took a shower. A quiet day, I decided - housework, reading... Massaging the soap into my fleshy sex folds, again, images of standing naked in the lounge before my neighbour filled my mind. It was like a recurring dream, a nightmare that wouldn't go away. But yesterday was gone - dead. Although the incredible events were real enough, I vowed never again to succumb to Den.
Refreshed from my shower, I wandered downstairs in my dressing gown and filled the kettle. The kitchen seemed different somehow, probably because I'd stood in that very room with my naked breasts displayed to Den, allowed him to suck my nipples into his treacherous mouth. The lounge had seemed different the night before. Mat sitting in his chair with his scotch, me on the sofa, I'd recalled Den there, gazing at my naked body, my pussy. I felt guilty in the extreme. But it would soon become a distant memory, I consoled myself. What had happened was history, never to be repeated. Does time heal?
The phone rang as I poured the coffee, but I ignored it. He wouldn't get to me, no matter how persistent he was. I wouldn't answer the phone or open the door. I'd stay in the house, safe and secure behind locked doors. The nightmare was over.
I mooched back and forth from the kitchen to the lounge making more coffee, watching TV. Chat shows, phone-ins...everyone had their problems, it seemed. Should I phone in? Ten o'clock passed, eleven... I felt hemmed in. The summer sun was hot, beckoning - I wanted to spend time in the garden, relax on the patio in my bikini. But he was next door - lurking, spying, waiting.
"This is ridiculous!" I finally breathed, flinging the back door open. "I'll not be a prisoner in my own home!" Walking across the lawn, the sun warming me through my dressing gown, I turned and glanced up at Den's house. All looked quiet and peaceful. Perhaps he was out? I pondered. He worked from home as a financial consultant, but he might have gone out to see a client.
Wandering down to the end of the garden, I stood beneath the old apple tree, gazing at the lush grass. As Mat wasn't coming home that night I wondered whether to go out for a drink with Carole. I had to get out of the house for a while, escape my surroundings. I'd ring her later and suggest it.
Although feeling a little easier, I locked the back door as I wandered into the house to dress. The day was already becoming very hot and I'd have preferred to have left it open. But there was no point in inviting trouble.
Climbing the stairs, I slipped my gown off, tossing it over the banister as I crossed the landing to my bedroom. Perhaps I'd take a trip into town and buy the dress, I mused, standing before the full-length mirror and scrutinizing my naked body. Coffee at the shop in the High Street, a browse around the bookshop, and then...
"Very nice!" Den grinned, leaning in the doorway.
I screamed, adrenalin pumping through my veins as I turned to face him. "You bastard!" I yelled.
"That's a nice greeting, I must say!"
"What the hell are you doing in my bedroom? You nearly gave me a bloody heart attack!"
"I noticed you down the garden so I thought I'd come in and wait for you."
Instinctively covering my breasts with my folded arms, I stared at him in horror. Even my own bedroom was no sanctuary from his prying eyes! How dare he sneak into my boudoir and gawp at me! I was stunned at the audacity. Trembling, I wondered at his next move in the escalating nightmare, what he'd demand of me. But he just stood there, watching me, no doubt enjoying every minute of my plight.
"I lied," I said at length. For some incomprehensible reason, I imagined
his penis inside me, thrusting deep into my vagina, sperming inside me. My mind was leaving me. "It's not me in the photographs, I was joking."
"I don't think Mat will look upon your confession as a joke."
"It's your word against mine. You can't prove..."
"I had a small tape recorder in my pocket, Jane. Your confession, the university, the photographer... It's all on tape."
"I lied."
"You can't change your story now!" he laughed. "How will you explain to Mat that you were lying? By the way, I went to see a friend of mine last night. He's an amateur photographer, I got him to take some shots of the magazines. I have some really nice glossy prints of you now."
"Den, this is silly," I smiled, forcing a laugh as I grabbed a towel from the bed and held it in front of my naked body. "Look, I was joking about the magazine. I suppose I just wanted to see how far you'd go, that was all. It was only a joke."
"Stripping off and showing me your cunt... I don't suppose Mat would think it a joke."
"It's not me in that bloody magazine! Agreed, the likeness is pretty good, but it's not me."
"I know, we'll let Mat listen to your confession and look at the magazine. He can decide whether you were lying or joking."
"No, no don't do that! Look, you had your fun yesterday, we both had our little joke, so let's..."
"Turn round, Jane. I want you to stand with your feet apart and bend over."
"No!"
"I want to see your cunt lips bulging between your sexy thighs."
A strange feeling welled inside me. Fear, anticipation, expectation... Arousal? Whatever it was, I didn't understand it. An icy chill ran down my spine as I imagined my naked body bent over, my legs straight, my hands on the floor, my vaginal lips parted between my open thighs - Den's gleaming eyes transfixed there.
Another unfamiliar feeling gripped me as the towel fell away from my firm breasts, revealing my alert nipples. What was it? Did the danger excite me? My stomach somersaulted, churning as I stared at my blackmailer. This had all been a grave mistake, I reflected. Why hadn't I denied the photographs, put it down to an uncanny resemblance and left it at that? If only I'd known that he was recording me, my stupid confession.
"This turns you on, doesn't it?" he smirked.
"No!"
"It does, Jane. The thought of showing me your cunt turns you on."
"You turn me off! And what was the point in sending me that stupid note?"
"What note?"
"The note saying..."
"I haven't sent you any notes."
Covering my breasts, my full melons, with the towel, I tried to compose myself. I was sure Den hadn't sent the note. He was getting what he wanted, so why would he bother? The situation was ridiculous, horrendous. Here I was standing naked in my bedroom with my neighbour demanding to see my pussy! How the hell had I ever got myself into this mess?
"Come on, Jane," he persisted. "Show me your juicy cunt."
"Den, please!" I cried. But there was no compassion, no sympathy reflected in the dark pools of his eyes.
"It's entirely up to you. Show me your cunt or I'll show Mat the photographs and let him hear the tape recording."
Dropping the towel to the floor, I stood before him, allowing him to scrutinize my naked body, my curves, my hillocks. My heart missing a beat as he ordered me to lie on the bed, I didn't know what to do. I was trapped - trapped in my own bedroom with my perverse blackmailer. What choice did I have? None at all, my whispering thoughts told me.
Perched on the edge of the summery counterpane, I reclined tentatively, closing my legs as I sensed his gaze between my thighs. My mind torn, I didn't know whether to flee the house and put an end to the degradation or remain lying on the bed of perfidy, of humiliation, that was of my own making. I felt crude, dirty - treacherous.
"You have a nice cunt," he praised me. "A long slit, full, fleshy lips. A very nice cunt. Are you juiced up?"
My eyes closed, I imagined the view he had of my swollen vaginal lips, my sex crack. My juices trickling from my hot duct as I involuntarily parted my twitching thighs, I suddenly wondered what I was doing. I didn't want Mat seeing the photographs or listening to the tape, but how far would I be prepared to go to save my marriage... to destroy it?
Hearing movements, I shuddered as I thought Den was going to touch me. Sitting bolt upright, I gazed at him wide-eyed, my face flushing as I noticed the bulge in his tight jeans - his penis bulge. This was a dangerous game, I knew as I grabbed the towel and shielded my naked body. But it was no game!
"I'd like you to stand with your back to me and bend over," he instructed as if telling me to put the kettle on.
"Den, I..."
"Do it, Jane! Do it, or Mat will see the magazines and hear your confession."
There was aggression in his voice, anger. I felt frightened. The master and the slave, the blackmailer and the victim. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that I'd find myself in such a degrading situation. What choice was there? Dropping the towel to the floor, I turned and stood with my feet wide apart. Tentatively leaning over, I knew my vaginal lips were on display, nestling between my parted thighs, crudely exposed. Further I bent until my hands rested on the floor and I was looking up at my smug blackmailer between my long legs.
"A very nice cunt," he murmured appreciatively, dropping to his knees.
"You can only look," I quavered as he moved closer to my most private place. "Touch but not look," I murmured, my head muddled.
"Touch but not look?" he chuckled.
"I mean..."
"God, you're wet," he gasped. "Very wet!"
Why was I doing this? I wondered, trying to block out my shame by squeezing my eyes shut. Just like the photograph in the magazine, I'd crudely exposed my vaginal lips, my inner sex folds. There could be no turning back now. My wanton behaviour, the disgusting adulterous act I'd performed, could never be erased.
My debased neighbour's finger speculatively stroking my wet sex valley, I grabbed the towel and leaped up. "No!" I screamed, swinging round to face him. "No!"
"Come on, Jane. Bend over again and let me..."
"No, never!"
"In that case, I'll just have to show Mat..."
"I don't care what you do, I'm not going to..."
"I think Mat will care what you did all those years ago."
"It's not me in that bloody magazine! I only said it was because I was afraid."
"Afraid?"
"I thought you were going to... Mat's the suspicious type, deadly jealous - if he saw that picture, he'd believe it was me."
"But it is you, Jane! You said so yourself."
"It's not! Christ, why don't you believe me?"
"First you deny it, then you say you did it for the money, now you deny it again. It's you, there's no doubt about it."
"All right, show Mat, see if I bloody care!"
I sank sobbing with relief onto the bed as Den coolly left the room. I had to admit he was right. First I'd denied the tart was me, then I'd confessed to it, then... No matter what I said now, he firmly believed it was me, and that was that. After hearing my so-called confession, Mat would believe the worst, I knew only too well! I had to put a stop to the farce, confront Mat, tell him about Den, his blackmailing - and hope for the best.
Wandering into the hall, I looked for my dressing gown. I recalled leaving it over the banister, but it had gone. Suddenly realizing that Den had taken it to build up his evidence against me, the severity of my predicament hit me.
How could I ever explain why my gown was in Den's house, or my panties, come to that? Returning to the bedroom, I looked about me, wondering what else he'd stolen. He'd never steal my fidelity. Opening my dressing table drawer, I gasped, immediately realizing that he'd been rummaging through my underwear while I'd been in the garden. All my suspender belts had gone.
This had gone too far, I decided as I flung my clothes on. I had to confront Den, come to some arrangement or other with him. But
there was only one arrangement he'd agree to! Grabbing the receiver as the phone rang, I decided to talk to him, try and make him see sense.
"Oh, Carole!" I gasped, relieved to hear her voice.
"Are you OK, Jane? What's the matter?"
"Everything!"
I didn't know where to begin my incredible story, but I knew that I had to tell my best friend. What she'd think, I had no idea, but I desperately needed to confide in her. A problem shared? A secret shared is no longer a secret.
"I undressed in front of my neighbour," I blurted out.
"What?"
"I undressed in front of him. And I... I lay on my bed, naked."
"Are you feeling all right?"
"No, I'm not. Listen, he came here yesterday morning with a dirty magazine. The girl in the centrefold... He thought it was me and blackmailed me. He said that he'd show Mat unless I..."
"Is it you?"
"Whether it is or not doesn't matter, the point is that he thinks it's me."
"I don't understand, how can he blackmail you if it isn't you?"
"Mat will believe it's me, you know what he's like."
"If it's not you, then..."
"He had a tape recorder in his pocket. I didn't want him causing trouble so I admitted that it was me and..."
"It's all right, calm down. Tell me what happened, exactly."
"I stripped off in the lounge. Later, he came into my bedroom and... and made me bend over. I was naked and..."
"Jane, the only thing you can do is tell Mat."
"No, I can't do that. Mat's so suspicious, possessive, that he'd..."
"Unless you do something, it'll go on and on, get worse and..."
"I know that!" I snapped. "I'm sorry, Carole, I didn't mean to yell at you. Mat's been increasingly suspicious lately. He keeps on about other men, whether I fancy them or not. And he's got a thing about pornography, about the girls and..."
"Look, I'll come round and we'll talk about it."
"OK."
"Give me half an hour."
"I'll be here."
Replacing the receiver, I drifted downstairs, pleased that I'd told Carole, and yet wishing I hadn't. Now two people knew about the magazine! The nightmare was worsening by the minute. Pacing the lounge floor, my head spinning, I felt that I was becoming neurotic. Again, I wished I'd put a stop to the ridiculous situation before it had got out of hand. But it was too late now. Checking my watch, I decided to go and see Den, try to explain, to reason with him.
