. 02

The sound of the phone ringing awakes us the next morning. "Wakeup call," Tim mumbles, and slips out of his side of the bed. I soon hear the sound of the shower running, and he is bustling about the room. "Breakfast meeting," he explains. "I'd love to spend the morning seeing what trouble we can get you into, but it will have to wait." With that, he is into the bathroom and I can hear the shower curtain opening. I get up and go to join him, but he politely rebuffs me. "Trust me, I'd love you to have you in here with me", he says, "but I know we'll never get out of here on time." Tim is dressed and ready to leave in twenty minutes. He takes me in his arms, he in a fresh suit, me still nude, and holds me for a moment. "I have plans for another evening," he mumbles into my hair, then kisses my cheek. "Remember what I told you to do last night. I expect you to have completed your task before we meet again." His reminder jolts me back to reality. I can only nod and look up at him. Tim picks up his bag and is out the door.

I hurry to get ready, the start of my own work day fast approaching. After a quick scan of the room for anything either one of us might have missed, I pick up my bag and open the door. I step into the hallway to see a somewhat overweight young woman with bleached blonde frizzy hair walking down the hallway towards me, a cup of coffee in one hand, a muffin and a keycard in the other. She stops at the door next to mine and smiles slyly at me, seeming to acknowledge she heard the activity on our side of the wall last night. I avert my gaze and head for my car.

The day at work is difficult. I'm doing my best to concentrate, but thoughts of what I had committed to do keep running through my mind. Could I go through with it? What would I tell her? How would she react? All of these compete with the thoughts that I do not want to disappoint Tim, and I actually might want to let someone else in on my secret...

I go an entire week before settling on a plan of action. Daring not to delay any further, fearing that Tim may call for me at any time. I call her to invite myself to her place for a drink and a visit Saturday afternoon; "my house is a little too crazy right now," I explain. Anne goes one step further and offers a lunch date at her house.

Saturday comes and I walk the short distance up the road to her house. During the summer, we see each other frequently, the warm weather encouraging short trips up the road to her house, or walks down to our house to use the pool; girls' nights out and shopping excursions are the norm. Winter tends to make us want to curl up in our own oasis' of warmth, although I check in on her frequently and make sure she is doing alright.

I step onto the glassed-in porch on the side of her house, and she is waiting at the door. She is no more than 5 feet tall to my five-foot four, her hair jet black and hanging in gentle curls below her shoulders as compared to my shorter brunette look. Despite my advantage in height, she is a bit heavier than I. Not fat, but well padded in areas men like to grab and hold onto. Her breasts seem to dominate her frame, 36DDs from what I have learned from our shopping excursions.

She greets me warmly with a hug and steers me towards her kitchen. A pot of soup is simmering on the stove, and freshly baked bread has just come out of the oven. A glass of wine awaits me at my customary seat at her table. We sit and catch up, our public lives shared with each other. We are both into our second glass of wine when I decide it's time to reveal my private life.

"Anne, can you keep a secret?"

She looks back at me with a mildly amused look. "A secret? You? Miss Prim and Proper? I most certainly can! What is it? Did you tear the tag off a pillow? Rich didn't put another one in the oven, did he?"

I laugh nervously. I had rehearsed several ways to start this conversation, but suddenly, none seem comfortable. "If I tell you, will you promise not to think badly of me?"

She begins to laugh, but sees the tortured look on my face. "Of course I won't! You're my best friend! How bad can this be?"

"There's this guy..."

Anne's face turns very serious. "You're not thinking about cheating on Rich, are you? Ohmygod, have you already done it?" The look on her face would make me laugh other days. Today, I'm just anxious to calm her fears and get it all out.

"No, no, I'm not cheating," I say quickly. "Rich knows all about..." I stop, unsure how to continue. Anne's face is still serious, but a questioning look has crept in as well.

"Look, I know you've always been more open about your sex life than I have," I pause to see if her expression changes—it doesn't. "But Rich and I have fantasized about me being...with..another guy for a while." I pause again to take another breath. "I've also wanted to be...how to put this...owned, I guess...do what somebody else says, whatever he says...Rich knows this guy... he works with him sometimes..."

"Does this guy have a name?"

"Tim."

"And...Tim...makes you do things?"

I nod.

"Sexual things?" Another nod.

Anne smiles. "Tres kinky! And Rich really is OK with this?"

"Tim has to ask Rich's permission before he can see me."

"And how long has Tim been telling you what to do?"

"Since early summer. I've seen him five times in all."

Anne's expression turns serious again. "You're doing this because you want to and not because you're being forced to, right? You're not in any trouble? You can tell me..."

"No it's my choice. It's hard to describe, but giving up control is a big turn-on for me...it's like I can't be held responsible for what he makes me do."

My friend's expression turns to one of sad amusement. "I think I know what you mean," she says softly. "Dennis and I used to play some bondage games. I loved being tied and cuffed. He could do whatever he wanted, and I couldn't stop him...can't be a slut if you can't say no, right?"

I nod and take another gulp of wine. Anne's face brightens a bit as she puts away that part of her life which is gone and resumes her questioning. "So, why are you telling me this? You've always been pretty reluctant to tell me much about your sex life."

"Because he told me to tell you," I respond evenly. "He likes to test my boundaries, I think."

"Has he found a boundary you aren't willing to cross yet?"

"No, he just seems to know what I'm willing to do, and goes right up to that edge. Or in this case, pushes me just a little bit past what I thought my limit was."

"So, what HAVE you done?" That sly smile is back on her face.

I laugh. "I don't think I'm ready to talk about that, yet. It was embarrassing enough to tell you this. You're not disgusted with me, are you? I really worried about offending you—you ARE my best friend."

Anne's turn to laugh. "Hell, no! I always worried about what you thought about my experiences. Or have you forgotten about my threesomes in my earlier days?" A strange look flashes across her face, but is gone as quickly as it comes. I have not forgotten her experimentations—or her willingness to play both sides of the fence. She laughs and takes a sip of wine. "I've always wondered whether there was a fire under that cool exterior. Nice to know I'm not the only pervert on this road. Hey, whatever goes on between consenting adults is none of my business—might as well get all of the enjoyment out of life you can."

I feel my nerves slipping away, being replaced by a feeling of relief and happiness that I am able to reveal my alter ego to someone else, someone I trust. Our conversation continues to skirt the edges of my revelation, never getting too deep into the details. I decide to head home after the second bottle of wine has been finished.

I wobble slightly as I stand to go, pulling on my jacket. Anne escorts me out to the porch, begging me to keep her informed of any new developments. We hug our goodbyes, but she holds onto me for a moment afterwards. "If this gets out of control, you come see me, OK? Any problems, I'll help you out. OK?"

I hug her again. "Thanks, that means a lot to me. But right now, it feels good."

Anne moves her head from my shoulder and looks up at me. Suddenly, her lips are on mine, lingering longer than most friends kisses do. She breaks the touch, and moves away. My head spins. Did my inebriation just make more of that than I should?

I smile and start my walk back to my house, looking back and waving as I reach the end her walk. She waves back and continues to watch me until I am out of sight.

As it turns out, I had plenty of time to talk to Anne—Tim does not contact Rich again for a month. When he does, it is again to request my presence for an overnight stay, this time in the next town over. I am to meet him Friday night after work at Alberto's, a restaurant I know well. Very good, and very expensive. In addition to the restaurant, Tim has selected my attire, as well. I realize his choices are not something I can wear to work that day, and begin fretting over where I will change into what Tim has dictated. It's this concern that I call Anne to share.

"Change at work, who cares?" she tells me. "For all they know, you're going out with Rich."

"The dress is kinda brief," I respond. "A little black number. It's not slutty, but still, not something my coworkers are used to seeing. For all I know, one of the partners will think I'm coming on to him. Maybe I'll just take the afternoon off and get ready at home."

"The kids are old enough to know that you're dressing up for something special, and Rich isn't going" she reminds me. "Why take the chance of having to lie to them? Just come over here and get dressed."

"Really?" I ask, jumping at the idea. "You won't mind?"

"Why would I mind?" she asks. "Just because it's going to remind me that you're getting a nice dinner, and getting laid, while I'm eating Lean Cuisine and watching The Bachelor? No, of course it's alright."

I laugh and sympathize with her plight, but agree to the plan nonetheless. Friday comes, and I leave work a little early to head for Anne's house before doubling back to the restaurant. She greets me at the door dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"Hey there," she says as she lets me in, kissing me on the cheek as I move by her carrying my clothes and makeup bag. "Use my bedroom. Need anything while you're getting ready? How about a glass of wine?"

"Perfect!" I tell her. "My nerves are always up when I see him."

"I can't imagine why," Anne says with a amused grin. "I'll get it," she calls over her shoulder as she moves to the kitchen. "Go get dressed."

I move to her bedroom and lay my dress and bag on her bed. While laying out my things in front of me I notice the unmistakable head of a Hitachi Magic Wand peeking out from underneath a pillow. I smile—my favorite, and a match for the one I have tucked away in my own bag. There's a quick knock on the door, and it opens before I can answer. Anne enters carrying my glass and sets it on the dresser. I thank her and retrieve the glass, taking a sip before I set it down again. She waits, seemingly unwilling to leave the room yet.

I smile at her, waiting for her to leave. When it is obvious she is not going to, I tell her, "gonna touch up my makeup," and step into her master bathroom. She does not follow me, but does not leave the bedroom, either.

"Sexy dress," she calls out. "I'll bet it goes great with those heels." I call out my agreement, and she is quiet for a moment. "Garters?" she questions. She obviously is going through my selections.

"Uh huh. That's what I was told to wear."

"I hope the undies you're wearing now match. Looks like you forgot a pair."

"I'm not allowed to wear any."

"Ohh. Really? Miss PTA without underwear? Oh, you slut, you!"

"Just doing what I'm told."

Makeup done, I step back into the bedroom. Anne is still admiring my garter belt.

"I'm going to get dressed now."

"OK." She does not appear to be leaving.

"Umm, would it be OK if you stepped out for a bit? I get kinda shy..."

She snorts derisively. "Geez, Karen I knew you always liked privacy when you were trying on stuff when we shop, but, I would've thought you were over that now...I take it you undress for Tim?" She says in a teasing manner.

"I do," I say with mock seriousness. "But he tells me to. I have to."

"Well, if I had known...alright, alright, I'll get out. Call me if you need anything."

She shuts the door behind her and I begin the task of sorting my dress. Garters, stockings and strapless push-up bra are first. I make sure I insert my crystal buttoniere before slipping on the dress and stepping into my heels. I turn once in the mirror to check the fit, and make ready to leave. A thought crosses my mind before I reach the door, though. A nasty thought, a thought that seven months ago I would never have entertained.

I move to the head of Anne's bed and look back at the closed door behind me to check and make sure it has not come open. Satisfied, I peel back the pillow covering her vibrator and bend over it, putting my nose to the bulbous purple head, breathing deeply of her scent, knowing she must have used it recently. It's heady, stronger than my own, I believe, but a smell that excites me nonetheless. I reluctantly straighten again and put the pillow back in place. Grabbing a maroon wrap and draping it around my shoulders, I head back into the living room, where Anne is sitting on her couch, knees pulled to her chest as she looks at her bedroom door.

"Wow," she says. "You look great. This guy really does have a quite an effect on you—I can't believe you're wearing that?"

"Too slutty?" I say, now worried that perhaps I have overdone it.

"No, no," she reassures me. "Just way different that what I'm used to seeing you in. I see what you mean now, that would have raised eyebrows at your office, for sure."

I grab my keys. "Gotta go. Thanks for everything—do you mind if I leave my clothes here? I'll pick them up later."

"Of course," she says as she walks me to the door. "Have fun with your master. Be back by 10."

"I come back when he lets me," I remind her. She laughs, and gives me a quick peck on the lips. Shorter than the previous one, but still, one that surprises me.

The drive to Alberto's gives me both my nerves and my excitement time to build. What does Tim have in store for me this time? I barely remember the drive, my mind racing with possibilities. The maître'd seems to be expecting me when I walk in to the restaurant. I'm escorted to a table in the back where Tim, immaculately dressed, is waiting.

Dinner goes much the same as our previous meeting. We talk of work, current events, home life, just two friends comparing life notes. It is when we are finishing our wine that he asks the question.

"Did you do as I said?"

I nod. "I did."

"Good." His expression has not changed. "Did she take it well?"

"I think so. She reminded me of all the wild thing she has told me about, and that she wasn't upset."

"Like what wild things?"

I lower my voice. "Well, I told you about the people she has seen after Dennis' passed away...but when she and Dennis were first married, she had some threesomes with Dennis and his best friend."

"Really?" A smile crosses his face. "See? Everyone has their wild side. We're just starting to explore yours."

I study my wineglass in embarrassment at his pronouncement, but say nothing.

The check comes and we drop my SUV off at the hotel before continuing on to a nearby club for dancing. We are pulling into the parking lot when he asks, "are you wearing your jewelry?" I know exactly what he is asking about.

"Yes, sir," I reply, wondering if he will check for himself.

"Good. Why don't you take it out for a while. Wouldn't want anything to get in the way of your dance steps, now would we?" I smile self-consciously, but reach under my dress and fish out the crystal, dropping it in my purse.

Tim escorts me into an upscale club full of couples in their 20s to 40s. The music is what I would call 'sophisticated dance'—enough to make you move quickly, but not enough to make you sweat. While I've always enjoyed being on the dance floor, I know my moves are less than sublime. Tim, I quickly discover, is a wonderful dancer, and leads me through several numbers in more than passable fashion. I'm careful to not show too much, but several spins and dips come perilously close to revealing my lack of underwear. Tim finally sees my need for a break and leads me off the floor and up a level to overlook the scene below. We stand at the rail, sipping our drinks, watching the couple below us dance and socialize. Presently I notice three young men with their dates at the table below us. Each man seems to be taking a quick look up our way before returning his attention to the woman seated next to him. The men continue to sneak peeks, occasionally elbowing each other and grinning. I realize what it is they are looking at. From where they sit, I'm sure they have an excellent look up my dress. I do my best to block their view, but the dress and the railing make it very difficult.

"Tim," I say as quietly as I can. "The guys below us. They're looking up my dress."

"Really?" he says, looking back at me. "Want me to see if they want a better look?"

I panic at the thought that he might invite them back to our room, but I calm myself. "I don't think their dates would like that."

"True, true. Maybe next time I should make you shave a smily face up there. Well, I know I would like a better look. Would you mind if we head back to the room?"

I quickly agree, thankful that he has chosen to not pursue anything further here.

In what seems like moments, we are standing in front of our door. As usual, Tim has checked in first, as I can see when he lets me in. The door closes behind me, and I begin to wriggle out of my dress, knowing he requires me to be undressed any time we are in private.

"Not there," he says, moving to the window and opening the curtain. "Here."

I swallow my urge to say no and go to where he was standing. I can see into the parking lot from here, and wonder if anyone is looking up this way. I turn my back to the window, hoping this is allowable, and continue to undress, letting the dress fall to my feet before working on the bra. Nude save for my garter and stockings as he sits on the bed and removes his shoes and socks, I wait for further instructions, then begin to work on the garter.

"Leave them," he tells me. "Put your foot up on the window ledge and rub your cunt."

I do as I'm told, exposing my breasts and the motion of my hand to anyone who looks three floors upward. The fear of being seen is overpowering and it battles with the excitement I feel over the situation, hoping that Tim will let me move soon. I look back to the bed and he is now nude and lying prone, casually fisting his erection as he watches me run my fingers through my slit. I'm only left to expose myself a moment more before he calls me to the bed.

"I hope you don't mind," he says, "but I've been saving this one up for a while. I just want to work my way up inside that beautiful pussy of yours and leave a big load in you. Now, spread your legs and open that cunt nice and wide for me."

I roll onto my back, and he is quickly between my legs. There is no teasing this time—his cock quickly splits me and he is balls deep in me with his first thrust. It is quickly obvious that this one is about him—he is going to use me to get off, no concerns for me—and I find this strangely thrilling. To be used for another's pleasure, to be there for his convenience...

Tim suddenly stops his thrusting and moves from between my legs. I look through my spread knees, wondering if I have done something wrong, but he is already rummaging through my purse. He retrieves my cellphone and brings it back to bed with him. Dropping the phone by my head he pushes himself back into me with a single thrust, his elbows supporting his upper chest just above my face.