Double Dare

If Henry hadn’t quarreled with Sara over her notion of power and domination in a relationship – which he thought half-baked – he’d never have gotten his goose so thoroughly, and surprisingly … and satisfyingly cooked.

The conversation over lunch that started it all …………….

“That’s not domination – that’s just manipulation.”

“No … manipulation is when you still have a choice – I’ll have your balls in my purse, dear, and all you’ll be able to do is follow me around, smiling.” Sara’s eyes focused across the table on Henry’s face as he pondered what she was saying.

“No whips, cuffs, anything like that?”

“I wouldn’t have any use for them. Why carry around toys when I could control you simply through lust.”

“Direction …”

“Control!”

Henry squirmed a bit, feeling her eyes on him. Her face was strangely unfamiliar – firmer, more intent. They had been friends for fifteen years since high school, never intimate – just lifelong chums. He had been married for a time, and now had a brand new fiancée and a wedding scheduled. She was the chaste friend w/ only casual relationships to see her along the path. She was trying to prove something, and he only hoped – if he accepted her challenge – that he could play along convincingly enough that she might actually think she had nearly won the wager. He didn’t want to see her dispirited by her failure, but it was impossible for it to end otherwise. He was the solid, resolute one; she had the focus and direction of a butterfly. She’d probably tire of the game long before she failed, anyway.

And at that moment – with her staring directly into his eyes, his casual blink told her everything she would need to know. He had already lost. She was already inside his citadel.

“So – how long do you have to drive me to submission?” Henry’s bemused smile switched to embarrassed as he absent-mindedly flipped the sugar packet he was playing with over into the adjoining booth.

“I give you exactly a week. By breakfast time next Sunday, I’ll have you whipped.”

“And how will we know?”

After a pause, she replied, “Sometime later this week, you’ll suggest doing me a favor you might not have considered before. By Sunday’s breakfast, you will have come back and begged me to let you do it.”

“Geez, Sara. You’re nuts. What’s going on? I was going to play along, but this is too crazy. It’s never going to happen. I’m engaged. I’m going to marry Julia in two months. You need to get out more, hon. There’s a nice new guy at the office I’ll bet I could set you up with.”

“Is he gutless like you, Henry?” There was a smirk on her face; a smirk in her voice – hell, her whole body smirked as she asked the question.

Henry snorted derisively, then started to rise, “Ok – well, I won’t hold you to it. I’ll be home this evening – Julia’s going out of town on business tonight. Call me sometime and let me know if you’re going to insist.”

“Oh, mistress – may I pick up the check. What’s that – ‘no’? Please, oh, please, mistress, let me pay!! Oh, no! It’s just like you said – I’ve lost already!” he chuckled through the sarcastic soliloquy, then leaned over her and dropped a friendly kiss on her forehead, catching her narrowed eyes drilling into him. “Sorry, just teasing. You know I love you, kid. Gotta run - I’ll call you later.”

She toyed with the last of her omelet, tranquil satisfaction floating in her face. “He is so undone.”

Henry went from breakfast to a bookstore, around town on a few errands, then back home before dinner with Julia. Three messages on his voice mail – he punched through two solicitors, then heard a familiar voice. Familiar, but with a softer, throatier quality than he could ever recall:

“Hi, Henry. Sara. You know … I don’t think I’ve ever told you about my pussy. I was just laying on my couch, playing with it, and thinking how much you were going to enjoy playing with it in a week, so I decided to give you a call & introduce the two of you. You’ll like her – she’s got a little tuft of hair just above the slit, long and curly – good to tug on. Pull it up and my clit just pops out in the open. The rest of it, I keep waxed – a little painful, yes, but I have someone who comes in regularly just to bathe it in tender kisses.”

At that, Henry felt a tremor of surprise run through his system. He had never heard Sara talk like this, and then to hear her mention someone who just comes in to serve her ….. not even mentioning male or female, as though it were irrelevant. But, he continued listening.

“Perhaps that’s a duty you two could share – either together, or taking turns - if you prove yourself. I was just laying here, listening to that Santana CD you made for me …. ‘oh, Maria, Mari-aaaahhhhh …’ my hips started swaying to the music, and before I knew it, my clit had woken up and wanted a playmate. So, I’m stroking my labia, prying them open, feeling the air cool their moistness, flicking a finger over my clit. I just put two fingers in and pulled them out right before I called. They tasted heavenly … but they always do. I’ve been told I have the sweetest tasting pussy anyone’s ever had – tender, juicy, aromatic. Do you ever catch a trace of my perfume when we’re together? A little perk-you-up scent? Or all these years, have you totally missed that I’m a woman?”

Henry heard in the background a door chime, and almost rose on weakened legs to answer, then realized it came from the message.

“… Oh – my friend’s here. Not the one I mentioned a minute ago, but you’d like this one, too. Definitely. You’ll have to meet. Time for me and my very juicy pussy to go. You have a pleasant dinner with Jul

.”

Henry’s mind resurfaced around the third request from the voice mail attendant for instructions. “Press 2 to save, or 3 to delete.” Through a fog-enshrouded tunnel, he watched his finger reach out for option 3, only to discover that it was heading straight for 2, and he was powerless to redirect it.

“I guess that means it’s a go … oh well, as long as she doesn’t end up feeling bad.” Henry thought to himself, though without the blustery confidence he had shown this morning. At any rate, it was time to get ready for Julia. He absent-mindedly poured himself a glass of Pinot Noir, then headed off for the shower.

Julia was her typical effervescent self, long brown hair flowing down and getting flipped back to punctuate her many stories. It was nice to lean back, and watch her, enjoying the flood of life passing through her. But, she had a late flight, so there was little time to luxuriate. They went from restaurant to airport, wandering the concourse for a bit before her flight was called. They kissed at the gate, Henry tracing fingers down her back, then pulling her close. “There’s more where that came from. But, you’ll have to come back to collect the rest.”

“Oh, I’ll be back alright.”

“I’ll be here. Call when you get in, so I’ll sleep.”

Three hours later, as he sat scrolling through endless listings for essential gadgets on eBay, the phone rang. Just a quick, slightly groggy conversation with Julia to show she’d arrived safely, then he returned the phone to the cradle. Within five minutes, as he was shutting down for the night, the phone rang again.

“Hi, Henry. Sara.”

“Hi, Sara – what’s up? Have you decided?”

“Oh, you know I have, Henry, or don’t you check your voice mail? I won’t keep you. Since you’re going to be close friends soon, my pussy wanted to say good night to you. Check your e-mail. ‘Nite.”

Surprised a bit by the brevity, he hung up, then kicked over to e-mail. Sure enough, something from Sara. He opened the message, then the attachment, and as he did, a vision filled his screen. A smooth mound, save for a tuft at the very top of the labia (“… nice for tugging on …” he recalled), with full, crinkly, and parted lips. This was not a vagina at rest. The labia were red from friction, and parted from passion. Something had passed this way recently. He clicked the attachment shut, then viewed the properties. The file was dated mid-afternoon that day. It could be a ruse, or it could be the result of Sara’s visitor that afternoon.

With this image the last before his eyes, Henry had a long, restless night.

When he finally slept, he slept hard, and when he awoke, he brushed aside the cobwebs, forgetting the unaccustomed behavior from Sara. Once in his office, and secure behind his desk, he pulled up his e-mail. Upon seeing Sara as the sender, Henry remembered, and just for a moment, hesitated. Clicking on the message, he saw, “Henry – I’ve got you for lunch and dinner as long as Julia’s out of town. Only fair – I can’t capture you if you’re hiding. Meet me at Rocco’s at 11:30. Ask for ‘Ms. Redbush’ – I’ll have a table toward the back.”

He couldn’t understand how he had known Sara so many years without even an inkling of this, but he still trusted that this was just a flare that would burn itself out. Besides, Julia was only out for two days – Sara couldn’t become a problem in two days. So, he checked out a few minutes early and headed off to Rocco’s. Might as well see this through to the end.

He got there a few minutes late, and asked for Ms. Redbush. The maitre d’ smiled knowingly and lead him toward the back, into a little booth curved for two. As he slid in next to Sara, he noticed the gaping neckline of her puffy white blouse and caught a hint of bra before he looked away. “You’re late” she said, “I don’t know if I want to sit with you now.”

“What is up with you? I’ve never seen you like this – I can’t say I like it. Are you jealous of Julia?”

Here eyes narrowed at him, “You ‘can’t say you like it’, but can you say that by this time next week you won’t want to fuck it? Oh, and no – I’m not jealous of Julia. Maybe I just decided you’ve been missing out on something all these years – now’s your last chance – you’re still fair game until your wedding. We’ll just see what happens this week. Enough idle chatter – let’s just enjoy our meal. I’ve ordered us both angel hair pasta w/ grilled shrimp in a garlic butter sauce. The chef does it special for me.” Following this, she fell silent.

After a time, sipping on the wine already at the table, Henry spoke up. “I got the mail you sent last night. When was that taken, if I may be so bold?”

“I don’t tell secrets to the un-initiated, Henry. If you want to know things, you’ll have to get involved.”

“Involved how?” Getting no reply from Sara, he turned to the salad that had just arrived.

“Why is it we’ve never talked about our lovers, Henry?”

“I never knew you had any, though I’m starting to rethink that ….”

“You should have more surprises in your life, Henry. All this time, I’ve been on a wonderful ride, and I was neglecting you. I’m going to fix that.”

“And how would that be?”

She laid a hot hand firmly on his arm, and did not speak until she had his full attention. When his eyes finally found hers, and were locked tight by them, she resumed. “When was the last time you left a lover’s home because you knew it was either that or be swallowed whole by her passion? Ever spent a day being eaten slowly by two women, who tasted everything you had to offer, and shared everything they tasted? Do you have any tender memories of a time when you were awakened with an orgasm that seemed to ride your body through the entire day, until you finally faded into the sunset?”

The waiter brought their main dishes and Sara, without looking away, or softening her voice, finished her sentence, held out her hand, then concluded with, “Thank you, Mario – I think we’ll take the second bottle as well, then that will be all.” Henry’s eyes widened as Mario bowed, placed the back of her hand against his cheek, not even kissing it, then departed.

Looking down, a dry-throated Henry asked, , “So … this is what you do?” This Sara was so foreign to him that he no longer knew how to look her in the eye and ask her direct questions. Receiving no answer, and seeing that she had already begun on the pasta, he knew he would get no answer until he could look her in the eye. He lifted his eyes and watched her for a moment before her unblinking gaze returned casually to him.

“I told you, Henry. I don’t share my secrets with people who won’t appreciate them. The most you know … or should know by now … is that you and my pussy will become very close friends, and that I think it would be good for you to meet at least a few of her other friends. Beyond that ….” She trailed off. “Mmmm – the shrimp is so tender. He knows exactly how I like it. Try one.” Without waiting for agreement or deferral, she slipped one onto her fork and placed it at his lips, which opened absent-mindedly, and received it.

Henry did not specifically remember leaving the restaurant and returning to the office. Actually, he simply knew they had occurred because before he knew it, he was back at the office, heading to a long afternoon meeting. Midway through the meeting, his grumbling stomach informed him that he had been unfocused, and had eaten too little of the meal. Not to worry (“not to worry ….?”), Sara had told him she was expecting him for dinner at 7, and to dress for it. She didn’t specify how well to dress, simply saying, “Impress me.”

When he arrived at her door at 6:58, bottles of Shiraz and Chardonnay cradled in his arms (he had no idea what they were eating), Sara greeted him, elegantly, in a long red gown, slit up to the hip, with spaghetti straps. “Come on in, Henry. I didn’t mention earlier, but there are other guests – I’m sure you’ll find them interesting. I like the suit, by the way – Julia has good taste. Better take one of us along next time you shop for ties, though.” He entered – walking out of habit across to the French doors separating her living area from her bedroom, and draping his overcoat across the chair just inside the doors.

Having been introduced to the other four guests, Harry busied himself with polite conversation through drinks and dinner – watching the other guests banter with some familiarity, one with another, and with Sara somehow floating above it all – watching and smiling. The even mix of men and women kept the conversation swirling without interruption. At the end of the meal, with the last bit of wine finished, Sara said, “Alright – why don’t the four of you make yourselves comfortable in the other room. Henry will help me clear the dishes.”

So, Henry helped her clear the table of dishes. As he was beginning to load them from the kitchen counter to the dishwasher, Sara took his hand, saying, “That should do it for now. Why don’t you come with me and we’ll talk for a bit.” So, they left the dishes and returned to the living.

Henry was a little surprised to see they were alone in the living area, but noticed very quickly that Sara’s French doors were now closed. Sara pulled him out of his puzzlement, however, and immediately into conversation, updating him on a recent camping trip she (the Sara he knew) had taken. As she wound through her story, Henry became aware of activity within the bedroom. Shadows passed before the frosted glass, and he heard soft conversation punctuated with gentle laughter. Sara talked on, as Henry’s attention gradually shifted toward the bedroom. Bodies came together, silhouettes kissed, and shadow hands moved sensually in and around other shadows. Soft sighs and moans of pleasure slipped through the thin crack between the doors, and now and then a gasp. Shadows shifted, then began blending in earnest. One of the women – (was it Marguerite, the smoky-voiced redhead?) began panting in unmistakable passion as she and the figure above her formed a triangle of torsos and arms. The triangle rocked back and forth and undulated, legs rising up against the candle flames at the far side of the room. They were joined by a third side, large, and linear (was it Andrew with the graying moustache?). Sara continued her description of the hikes she had taken and Henry to his credit, seemed to nod at the appropriate times, but she knew all her words were slipping past – she would tell him again sometime when all pretense was gone she actually intended him to hear.

The triangle opened up and became a sturdy box, open to the top. There was no doubt that Andrew’s cock was slipping into Marguerites’s mouth, past her shining red lips. Only the thinnest shadow connected Andrew and Marguerite for a time; slowly the two sides converged, and then Henry watched as Andrews shadow cock plunged deep into Marguerite’s throat and out again. Martin’s pace remained steady, his runner’s legs no doubt serving him well for the solid, perfectly-paced fuck he was giving Marguerite. He could see from time to time, as she arched her back, the building passion on the bed. Strands of shadow reached out and caressed her breasts and sides in unison, seeming to join themselves, then separate, and the more they danced over her body, the harder Marguerite began thrashing under their attentions. Henry watched without blinking, then realized the fourth, a blonde named Sharon was nowhere to be seen. Trying to watch for her, but unable to shift his focus, Henry waited and she suddenly loomed in from the shadows, laying aside something (was it a camera?), and joining this multi-segment creature. Her head went straight for the joining of Marguerite and Andrew, directly to the point where his cockshadow entered Marguerite’s mouthshadow. Hands reached up now and stroked, the cock was pulled out for Sharon to swallow, then returned to Marguerite, then back again. A swirl of hands and lips ministered to the cock, while Martin continued to provide the base rhythm, now building more insistently, but no less constant. Henry could make out Marguerite’s thighs clasping, shifting, and re-clasping as Andrew’s cock plunged in and out of her, and could hear the satisfying slap of wet genitalia.

He was also vaguely aware that Sara’s voice had stopped – perhaps some time back. A quick glance over showed her watching his face dispassionately, but intently. She was no doubt entirely aware of – and entirely satisfied with – the sweat that was running into his eyebrows. His eyes left hers and telescoped him back into the activity in the bedroom. Sharon’s head bobbed on Andrew’s cock, and then drew back, returning it to Marguerite’s lips as Andrew’s hips began their trembling thrusts of orgasm. He surged into Marguerite’s mouth three, four, five times, then abated. Fingers danced along the shaft, but no more surges came, and when the cock withdrew, Henry was surprised to see Sharon bend down to share a deep, wet kiss that left no doubt as to the disposition of Andrew’s semen. The shadow of Andrew grew, then shrank back, as he appeared to take up Sharon’s position out of the light. He also picked up the object, which Henry had to assume was a camera. Martin continued his quickening pace, as Sharon’s figure began a slow path down toward the junction between Marguerite and Martin.

In his peripheral vision, Henry saw Sara loom up to his left. His pulse raced as she drew closer, and he was certain she was about to take his hand and lead him into the bedroom. She placed one hand on his shoulder, and bent down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, saying softly, “I think my other guests need my attention. Would you mind letting yourself out?”

Her slitted dress flowed behind her as she glided toward the bedroom doors. As her hand fell upon the doorknob, he began, “Oh - my, umm …” Sara silently pointed toward his overcoat, carefully draped over the back of the loveseat near the door. With two fingers, she blew a kiss to him, and slipped through the briefly-parted doors.

Clearly, there had never been any consideration of inviting him in. He knew that to sit there and watch her become immersed in the shadows of passion dancing on the other side of the glass, would drive him mad with untappable desire, so he beat a hasty retreat. Once safely out the door and en route to his car, he thought back to the morning. He had been entirely wrong. Julia wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night, and Sara – this new, unknown Sara – was a major problem. Once home, and unwilling to waken Julia at this late hour, he found companionship in the remainder of the Pinot Noir, and drifted into another, more-troubled night’s sleep.