Standard disclaimer—this story takes place in a world where STDs don't exist and only babies planned for and wanted do—in other words, a fantasy world. Any resemblance to real-life people is purely coincidental.
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Dinner the next day was in many ways the same affair Gwen had known since her childhood. Stress from the feeling she was being examined and evaluated mingled with polite boredom and distance from her mother's tales of her social circles, of who had been scandalized and perhaps knocked a rung down the ladder recently.
There was something different today though, something that had begun to build at breakfast the day before and never left. You think I'm still a proper wife and mother, a daughter, Gwen thought as she pretended to listen to her mother's story about how the Pearsons' son had flunked out of college. But you have no idea that I enjoy being an object of desire for strange men despite already having a husband, or what I've been doing with your own daughter-in-law. What would you do if you ever found out Natalie and I had practically been intimate? There was fear in that thought still, but now excitement in the potential scandal as well.
And what about the rest of the gathered family? She looked at each of them in turn. Did they have things hidden in their past or present? It was extremely unlikely for her mother, Gwen knew, but what about her father? Mother had always said to resign yourself to the idea that men need to cheat; did that apply to Daddy as well? And what about Alison and Jason? That was more likely; what were their secrets, and did she really want to know?
Tim and Gwen made love that night in the familiar, predictable way they had practiced for years before the summer began. Gwen was comforted by the routine, appreciating the ability to return to what she had known with her husband since her wedding night, to the way they had made their children. The knowledge that this safe spot still existed even after her forays into more perverted practices made her content.
She stayed content until Tuesday, until the need to let the Slut loose for a bit of fun began to grow again. The Lady realized that resistance was futile and instead bent her efforts to ensuring Gwen properly prepared for the event, insisting that her normal attention to detail applied even to acts of debauchery.
Tim would be at a planning board meeting tomorrow evening, she thought, and we need groceries. Perhaps a trip to the market was in order. Not her regular one, but that one two towns over.
Her clothing choices were also pondered. Gwen settled on a golf shirt in KD's closet that would work with what she had in mind. The extra material needed to cover her daughter's more expansive chest made the top almost baggy on her mother. A golf skirt that Alison had purchased when taking up the sport while she and Jason were dating was also selected. Gwen remembered her own mother's objection to her granddaughter wearing it where her friends at the club might see. Unlike Ali, she had no intention of wearing the shorts that were supposed to go with it.
It was business as normal the next morning, conservative Mrs. Nelson seeing the trucks off and plowing through paperwork until a quick dash to the house for lunch. Gwen the thrillseeker walked back across the yard to the office carrying her clothes rather than wearing them, dressing moments before the first truck pulled into the yard late in the afternoon.
Tim returned for a quick shower and a change of clothes before heading back down into town. Gwen smiled and waved from the deck as his truck backed away, then headed to KD's room, to where she had laid out her clothes.
The omission of underwear meant it only took a moment to change, the addition of white ankle socks and sneakers giving her a look that would have had her blending in perfectly at the country club. It was the look she was hoping for; no one would ever suspect someone of that social class to be running about without underwear. She also hoped the implied social status would make people pause before challenging her should she be discovered—growing up in that atmosphere had taught her that privileges of class did indeed exist.
She bounced in front of the mirror to test the shirt's ability to disguise the fact she was braless, the extra fabric rippling in an exaggerated fashion from the motion of the firm mounds beneath. Better not jump up and down, Gwen reminded herself, then turned and bent at the waist to look back at her reflection and the hem rising dangerously close to revealing her bottom. Satisfied, and with heart pounding, she headed out.
Gwen could feel her unfettered breasts jiggling despite the seatbelt that crossed between them as she bounced over the rough backroads towards her target. She occasionally glanced down at just how much thigh was exposed, and resisted the urge to reach underneath and give herself one quick swipe of a finger. Two hands on the wheel...
It was nearly dusk when she pulled into the shopping center. The oncoming darkness had been figured into her plan as well, a curtain for her to escape behind should the need arise. The department store next to the supermarket caught her eye; she had forgotten it was here. Much to the Lady's annoyance, her carefully laid out plan changed and there was a need to look for some clothes before groceries.
Gwen wandered the woman's section feigning casual interest among the clothing racks before gravitating to the lingerie. She took her time studying the various styles, wondering if the bored husbands and boyfriends of her fellow shoppers were taking note of her interests, maybe even wondering what she might look like in them. Three bras that she had no intention of actually trying on were selected and taken to the dressing rooms.
She hid her disappointment over the small and empty waiting area as the middle-aged clerk handed her a tag before returning to the rack of putbacks behind her. The arrangement of the chairs didn't leave many opportunities for those who might come along after to view the rooms beyond, but she selected a stall nonetheless, disappointed the door opened towards the back and would completely block even the most determined onlooker's view.
Still, she left the door open a crack and stripped off what little she wore, the Slut reveling in the wickedness of being completely naked in a near-public setting while the Lady shook her head at the display of mental instability. The bras hung untouched as Gwen stayed there for some time, going so far as to poke her head and upper body out the door in the hopes another shopper might perhaps come down to a stall beyond hers. The possibility of pleasuring herself right then and there was considered before reluctantly being rejected as too risky.
It was time to go grocery shopping, she decided. It took only a moment to redress and return the bras, stopping on her way out as she passed through the shoe department. Gwen smiled and grabbed a pair of flats in her size before sitting down to try them on, her seat selection more important than the choice of shoes; at her feet was a mirror. Her legs opened and slid her skirt upwards as she bent to pull the flats on to her feet; she didn't bother to straighten it or her legs after she sat up again. A quick check in the mirror confirmed her most private spot could be seen in the reflection, dim under what little of the skirt still covered it, the profusion of curls further obscuring her cleft, but visible nonetheless. Gwen glanced about nervously, looking for any other shoppers who might be able to see her reflection, relieved and disappointed she was alone in the aisle. She modeled the shoes for a moment more, then removed them and headed next door.
Gwen's nerve wavered a bit under the sheer number of shoppers in the store with her and curtsied demurely when selecting items from the lower shelves. She checked the skirt frequently to ensure it was hanging correctly, and considered buttoning up the open collar of her shirt.
A stop at the custom cuts meat case was first. "Can I help you, ma'am?" A bored young man, his white coat blotted with dried maroon splotches, looked at her from across the low glass case.
"Umm, yes, please." The Slut spurred her to greater mischief and Gwen bent to examine the selections in the bottom rack. "May I have two of those marinated chicken breasts, please?" Gwen was certain the young man would have a clear view of her dangling mounds beneath the gaping shirt if he happened to look. A quick glance up confirmed he had indeed chosen to do so, his stare focused on a spot below her face.
"Uhh, yes ma'am," he stammered, his eyes studying the gap in the shirt intently, unaware he had been caught peeping. "Uhh, two breasts?"
"Yes, please," Gwen answered, holding her pose and pretending to help the clerk locate her selection. "Those right there."
The young man took his time retrieving her selection as he switched his focus between the woman on the other side of the slightly fogged glass and her meat. He eventually straightened to bag her request, and Gwen held her pose.
"Anything else, ma'am?"
Gwen could feel her breasts shimmy ever so slightly as she shifted her weight to point to another part of the case. "Yes, please. Two of the strip steaks." She did not straighten until he had retrieved those as well.
"Anything else, ma'am? We have some excellent rolled pork in the bottom of the case."
His attitude has certainly changed, Gwen noted with some amusement. She bent again to examine his suggestion as the young clerk stooped to show her. "No, no thank you," she said, straightening. "That would be too much for me. This will do it."
The clerk smiled and watched her push her cart on down the aisle, pleased with his good fortune; he had gotten a good look at a nice pair of titties. Nice rack, a little small, he mused. I'd still be more than happy to wrap 'em around my dick, though. Here, take this rolled pork, lady. The young man snorted. Women can be so oblivious!
Gwen laid low through the rest of the store and past the checkout, the Lady imploring her not to press her luck in this crowded environment. One of the baggers, an elderly man, offered to take her purchases to the truck, an offer she gratefully accepted.
